


Appetence

by notaliteraltoad (orphan_account)



Category: The Strain (TV), The Strain Trilogy - Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Sexual Content, No Dick Quinlan (sorry lads), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-06-26 11:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19766911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/notaliteraltoad
Summary: 'When Aubree's dark eyes flickered up it was difficult to meet Quinlan's gaze. He stood tall, unaffected as always, and made her stomach twist. "I'm sorry I tried to kiss you," she murmured, "it was stupid, and we need to focus on the mission-""On both parts, you and I agree."Swallowing thickly, Aubree stepped away. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill. She turned away just so he wouldn't see; but at this point she doubted Quinlan even cared.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before canon. It doesn't exactly break canon but it doesn't strictly follow it either; it works if you aren't picky with the exact details 😂😂
> 
> I also don't usually put OC stuff on here, but the Quinlan/OC tag is pretty big so I figured it was a popular thing~

Dusk settled across the Isle of Wight, blanketing the squat little buildings in thick shadows. Up above, the sky glittered vibrant red and fuchsia, decorated with darkened clouds.

Aubree didn’t stop to admire the beautiful sky above her; instead she fixed her gaze on the street ahead, lips pursed and olive eyes narrowed. She hated walking home at night - _hated it _-__ but since her shift at the hospital’s front desk didn’t end until after eleven o’clock she didn’t have much choice. So there she was, skittering on the stupid heels her boss demanded she wore, clutching her tiny bottle of pepper spray, ready to beat the __shit__ out of any creeps lurking nearby. No one else was stupid enough to be outside at eleven on a Tuesday because there wasn’t a single other soul around. There never was; not that eased her nerves any. 

Somewhere deep in Aubree’s coat pocket, her phone vibrated. The squeak that forced itself from her lips earned a snort of laughter at her own jumpiness; but soon enough she had fished it from her pocket and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Aubree!” on the other end of the line, her sister Dawn squealed. “You’ll _never_ guess what I just heard!”

Her unease dampened by Dawn’s excitement, Aubree only rolled her eyes. “Dawn, it’s after eleven. _Why_ are you calling so late you weirdo?” Her foot hit a loose paving stone and she wobbled, heels bucking. Stupid shoes. Wincing, she puffed out another breath.

Dawn hadn’t noticed; or she was too busy talking to bother asking. “I spoke to Rosie - you know she only lives like, ten minutes from you, and you should talk to her more often-”

“She’s __your__ friend Dawn, not mine,” Aubree chimed in with a sigh, “I love you, but __please__ get to the point. I’m exhausted.”

“Fine, __fine,__ _ _”__ on the other end of the crackling line, Dawn huffed in that over dramatic way of hers. “Well, Rosie told me this crazy guy attacked her last night. It was __bad,__ you know? She said he was all messed up; creepy pale and acting like some kind of zombie. There was something on the news about it too; other people going crazy and attacking their friends.”

Aubree rubbed her temples. The beginnings of a headache pulsed at the back of her head. “I did a thirteen hour shift, I haven’t had time to watch the news.”

“Just be careful, hon. Rosie’s fine, thank God, but I know you hate being out alone at night.”

Despite herself, Aubree faltered. The street was deserted, cars sitting silent and houses dark. Not even a cat crossed the streets. Now that she thought about it, it was __weird.__ Was she just paranoid now, or was it quieter than usual? “Thanks Dawn, now I feel even _worse _,__ “ she complained - and suppressed a shiver. Despite the protest of her heels she quickened her pace. Just two streets until she was home.

“I’m just saying, watch yourself. Rosie-“ Dawn cut herself off, and a hand muffled her voice as she yelled something across the room. Aubree winced as static erupted - but then Dawn was back. “Sorry, the kids are awake. I know it’s late, but they had _way_ too much sugar after dinner. Anyway, Rosie...”

A shadow, darker than the rest, shifted in the corner of Aubree’s eyes. Moments later a laugh erupted from her left, deep and decidedly __drunk.__ A second laugh followed and Aubree flinched as two men turned the corner. One held a bottle of... _something _...__ in one hand while he leaned on the second, smaller man for support. 

She preferred it when she was alone.

“Hey, you okay?”

Snapped back to reality Aubree sighed, clutch on the pepper spray loosening. “Yeah, just two drunks hanging around. I don’t even think they know I’m here.”

Except, they just had. The tall one turned, a thin lipped grin spreading across his otherwise handsome features. He had a stain splashed across his hoodie, probably from a spilled drink. “Hey, where you headed?”

“Home,” Aubree shot back. Although she kept her dark eyes ahead, she kept them within her line of sight. It was impossible to know if it was just two drunks having fun - or something more sinister. Swallowing thickly, Aubree hurried on.

They weren’t so eager to give her up. They staggered, feet clumsy on the cobbled pavement - but Aubree was small and they kept pace. “Come on, don’t be like that! We’re trying to be nice here.”

The phone slipped in Aubree’s damp grasp and for a moment she forgot Dawn was still on the line. Her voice crackled and Aubree fumbled to raise it to her ear. “Hey Dawn, I’ve got to go. Phone you tomorrow, okay?”

“Uh, sure hon. Are you okay?”

“Fine. Bye!” The phone clicked off, and she shoved it back into the depths of her pocket, but the pepper spray remained in her small hands. The thought of having to _use it_ made her stomach turn. 

Behind her the men laughed. Even from a distance she smelled the alcohol - whisky, it seemed like, and maybe beer. It was bitter and cloying - enough for her to abandon pretence of calm and dash around the corner. They followed, still calling and snorting laughter. “Hey, where do you live? I bet it’s one of those fancy flats across the street.”

Shit, was she so close to home? What if they followed her inside, tried to get into her flat? Was it an overreaction to call the police?

The back of her neck prickled as the men pursued, heels clacking against the ground as she hurried around the corner. She paused, back pressed tight against the cool brick of the closest building, pepper spray at the ready. It was the stupidest idea ever, taking on two men with only a tiny pepper spray. What if-

The men’s footfalls stopped, their laughter fell silent. For a long, thick moment there was only silence - and then one man let out a shriek and stumbled back. He appeared around the corner, eyes locking with Aubree’s before he lost his footing and hit the ground. “What the fuck was that?”

For Aubree, there was no chance to reply. She parted her lips, skittering back along the wall - but the man’s attention snapped from her to something around the corner, something she couldn’t see. His eyes went wide, dark pits reflecting something Aubree was sure she didn’t want to see. His mouth opened in a soundless scream and then he jerked forward, like something had _grabbed him _-__ and he screamed for real. It echoed through the empty street, rang in her ears. Then he was gone.

Two minutes. It took two minutes for Aubree’s erratic breaths to calm, for her to pry herself from the wall. Sweat clung to her back, her hands slick as she wiped them on her high-waisted skirt. Her brain screamed at her to leave, to run the rest of the way home - ditch the heels if she had to - and never look back. As always, curiosity got the better of her.

The __second__ she peeked around the corner Aubree’s stomach dropped. The men vanished, no trace of them save for an abandoned wallet in the middle of the road. A thick, goopy red streak twisted around the corner toward a dead-ended path. Shapes writhed in the darkness. She wished that was the worst of it, but wet, guttural sounds reached her ears above the ringing of her own pulse. 

Small hands fumbled for her phone, but God knew what she would tell the police. What the _hell_ had happened? People couldn’t do that, couldn’t drag a man off and leave behind only a trail of blood. Her hands caught the phone, and it tipped from her pocket, clattering to the ground. At once she grabbed for it - only to freeze with her hand hovered over the unlock screen.

She wasn’t alone. Across the street the shadows had moved, the disgusting wet noises had ceased. someone stood, motionless, watching her.

She was shaking as she stood, head bowed. Something deep inside of her told her not to look at the person lurking there. If it was even a person at all. Gradually she worked herself to her feet, ignoring how her ankles protested her weight on those heeled shoes. She took one step back, two steps - and then _ran._

Whoever - _whatever_ it was let out a screeching howl unlike anything she had ever heard. It bounded after her with arms outstretched, howling into the night.

Aubree’s lungs burned, her ankles ached - but if two years of roller derby had taught her anything, it was how to __move.__ She careened around the corner, kicking off her heels as she went, leaving them abandoned by someone’s front lawn. Immediately she sliced her foot on the cobbles and stumbled, arms flying out to protect herself as she tumbled to the ground. Her back struck earth and the world __spun__ around her.

Something dark loomed above her, a long shadow cast across where she lay, breathless and shaking. When the person - no, _creature _-__ bent over her she was forced to look at its face. Dark, hollow eyes ringed with red set deep into a sunken face. Hollow cheekbones stood out against translucent skin - and something _writhed_ underneath that skin, something thin and worm-like.

Then its mouth opened, unhinged almost like a snake’s, and something began working its way out from its throat-

A scream ripped from Aubree’s throat as she threw an arm out. She knocked the creature back and it __hissed__ like something out of a corny horror movie. But this wasn’t corny or pretend, and Aubree’s chest hammered as she scrambled to sit up. 

The creature lunged again, baring rotting teeth and there was barely enough time for Aubree to roll out of the way before a long, sticky appendage shot from its mouth - and struck the ground only inches from where her head had been. Its head snapped to the side then, an awkward twitch accompanied by a growl far more animal than human. That weird stinger-like appendage - was it a __tongue? -__ flickered in the air, like it was __tasting.__ Then it hopped to its feet and scurried after her.

The stinger shot out again and Aubree caught a flash of three tiny, tooth-like edges before she flung herself out of the way. Her stomach lurched as she landed on her wrist and a scream built its way up in her throat. When the creature pinned her to the ground with one dirty hand she __screamed__ , letting it rip from her throat as she lashed out. Her finger pressed down on the pepper spray and she aimed-

The creature fell back with an echoing scream, mirroring Aubree’s own as she shoved it away. Clawed hands scrubbed at its eyes squirmed, but it wasn’t down for long. The creature clawed its way into a twisted crouch, dark eyes swollen - and then its neck burst into a spray of _white_ and it toppled backward. The motionless body fell to the ground with a deafening _thud,_ but the head rolled away. Severed clean off.

There was no blood, only a puddle of white that seeped from the disgusting, headless neck. Aubree huddled frozen, dark eyes wide as she sucked in a shaking breath. What the _hell?_

“May I suggest you get away from the worms.”

Her eyes flickered up. Yes, she registered the tall man that loomed above her, registered the slender sword held in his hands, but it was as if her brain refused to make sense of the image. Wobbling to her feet she noticed for the first time the tiny, wriggling little worms that clung to the white... blood? They squirmed, reaching for the trickle of blood from Aubree’s wounded foot.

“Are there any more?”

“More what?” she managed. Although darkness surrounded them and the man wore a thick hood, Aubree thought she glimpsed pale, transparent skin. 

He sighed, exasperated, and nudged the dead creature with the tip of his sword. “More _strigoi._ They rarely travel alone.”

Her gaze dropped uneasily to the corpse. More of those __worms__ wriggled from the gaping wound. Any other time she would have turned away, disgusted; but it was difficult to think of it as a once-living creature without crimson blood. “What’s a _strigoi?”_ she questioned, fumbling over the unfamiliar word.

“Your people would call them vampires.”

Her pulse jumped. “They don’t look like any vampires I know of. What about that... thing?” Pale fingers flickered to her lips.

Another sigh hissed from his parted lips and Aubree swore she heard a dull __hiss__ from the back of his throat. Like the creature. “I don’t have time for your __questions__. If you have any sense you will go home, lock the doors, and stay there until daybreak.”

“They’re allergic to sunlight?” Maybe they were more vampire-like than she thought. The idea made her shiver, eyes darting about the quiet street. If the commotion had woken anybody, they weren’t brave enough to step outside. Thinking back on how that creature - _strigoi _-__ had dragged off that man, it was for the best.

The man stepped forward, and for one moment the streetlight above illuminated his pallid skin. His eyes were sunken and eerily blanched. “You did well to stand up against a _strigoi,_ but you might not be so lucky in the future. Invest in some silver.” A white hand outstretched, something glittered in his grasp. A knife. “For you. Use it well; I don’t hand these out to just anybody. I have the feeling you may be useful in the future.”

Aubree gawked at the blade as she took it in shaking hands. The hilt was intricate, _old;_ but the blade sparkled as if it was brand new. Gripping it, she nodded. “Thank you. I think?.” She shifted from foot to foot, far too aware of her bare feet and the white worms still squirming on the cold ground.

Somewhere far away - and yet still __too close -__ a creature howled. Aubree suppressed a shiver as the howling screech echoed along the street, ghostlike.

“I must be on my way; it seems this wasn’t the only _strigoi_ wandering the streets tonight.” He regarded her for one long moment, white-grey eyes; as if he was sizing her up. His throat made that odd rattling sound again; and then he spun, long coat billowing, and started toward the noise.

“Wait!” Aubree reached out as if to stop him - but the thought of _touching_ him made her pause. “I never got your name.”

He glanced back, and although the thick hood shielded his face, she _thought_ she glimpsed a smile. “Quinlan.”

“I’m Aubree,” she replied, head dipping low, “thanks for saving my ass.”

Quinlan’s chest rumbled in what __might__ have been a laugh - and then without another word he disappeared.

Aubree wasn’t sure _how_ long she stood there, staring at the space he vacated - but by the time she dragged her exhausted body across the street and up the three flights of stairs to her flat, her thoughts had clouded over. She __almost__ believed she had been dreaming, if not for the silver knife still clasped in her stiff hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are appreciated! I'm new to the Strain fandom and it isn't super active so I'd appreciate some comments~


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Aubree slept through her alarm, then through her ten-minute reminder - until she awoke in a flurry of bedsheets and tangled hair. She was halfway out of bed before searing pain shot through her foot and she collapsed back onto the bed with a groan. Right, her foot; the foot she had injured running from... _yeah._ Sucking in a deep breath, she tried not to think about it; and failed miserably.

At least work would take her mind off things. By the time she was dressed and ready to go, the knife had joined her usual clutter, hidden deep within her handbag.

Even in broad daylight, with people bustling along the streets and cars roaming the roads, Aubree couldn't relax. Her eyes snapped from one face from the next, half expecting someone to run at her, lips peeled back to reveal that disgusting stinger. Just _thinking_ about it made bile rise to the back of her throat.

When she pushed through the wide hospital doors, Aubree let herself breathe. She stood, blinking at the harsh white of the hospital lights, only half aware of how she had got there. Her brain had been fogged since she woke up, not allowing her to think about anything except that pale, snarling face as the _strigoi_ pinned her to the cold ground-

"Miss Ross, you're _late._ "

Reality snapped back into focus so fiercely she stumbled over her own feet. In front of her stood Abbie, her fellow receptionist and a real stickler for time. Even at only five foot-two she was fiery, with her dark auburn hair and a dark frown.

"Sorry, I... I slept in."

Abbie hummed in disapproval. "What happened to your heels? Converse aren't dress code."

Oh. She had almost forgotten about those; the dark red Converse weren't her usual style, least of all for work - but since she had discarded her work shoes, there wasn’t much choice. Aubree wondered if those heels were still lying where she had kicked them off. There was no chance she was stopping to search. "I'll get new heels," she replied, "these are all I have."

She left before Abbie had the chance to reply, skittering to the desk and sliding into her office chair. At least __here,__ Aubree knew she was safe. Hospitals were one of the safest places in the world, right? Even so she couldn't help but let her gaze flicker from face to face. Vampires couldn't go out in daylight, right? So she was _fine._

Still, her stomach twisted. 

The first patient to approach was a man in his late forties; greying hair and dark shadows underneath his chestnut eyes. He was ashy, a little too pale for Aubree's liking, but she told him to take a seat and a doctor would see to him shortly. It was just the flu, she told herself, or maybe a stomach bug. He wasn't turning into one of those _things._

Five more patient showed before Abbie reappeared. Aubree might have been glad for the company if she wasn't so preoccupied, if she hadn't been so distracted by the thought of _strigoi._ But Abbie had no idea about any of it; and even if she had, Abbie was only concerned with herself.

"We had a weird case this morning," Abbie mentioned. Although she typed away on the computer she barely looked at the screen, her attention on her new gossip. "He was so pale I __swear__ he had no blood left in him, and he kept _twitching_ like he was having a seizure; but he swore it was just a bug. Yeah, sure."

Aubree only hummed a noncommittal response. Although she tried to start on the spreadsheet on her computer display, her navy blue eyes refused to focus. Maybe she should have called in sick, took a personal day to recover. Hell, it wasn't like she could have called the police. Besides, that creepy Quinlan guy had it covered, didn't he?

"...so we had to give him his own room. I don't care _how_ ill or upset someone is, it just isn't a reason to attack another patient."

Aubree's blood ran cold. She might have only heard the tail end of Abbie's rant but... but that sounded __far__ too familiar. "Where's the patient now?" she demanded. Pale hands gripped the corner of the wide desk, eyes wide.

"He's in room 402. Why?"

"How many people did he attack? Did he try to bite anyone?"

Abbie snorted out a laugh; but her eyes were dark with concern. "What's up with you today? First you were late, wearing those grungy shoes; and now you're acting like the world is about to end." 

The way she rolled her eyes, as if none of it mattered, only made Aubree's heart thud louder. "I'm serious, Abbie. Did he _bite_ anyone?" Surely if he had released that stinger __someone__ would have seen - but she knew herself that in the moment’s panic the brain shut down. Springing from her chair so fast it clattered against the filing cabinet behind, Aubree grabbed for Abbie's wrist. "Answer me!"

"Jesus!" Abbie snatched her hand back as if it had hurt,and she wasn't shy about burning daggers into Aubree's pale face. "Stop acting like such a bitch. Just do your job, and _chill out._ " 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Aubree tried not to let tears spill. She hated it, but Abbie was right; she couldn't have an outburst like this in the middle of work. In the middle of a _hospital._ When she took a deep, heaving breath it made her entire body shudder, and she cautiously opened her eyes.

Everything was normal. Patients perched on plastic waiting chairs and nurses bustled about. The lights were too bright, as they always were, and gave everything that clean, white look. Outside cars milled about the car park. Fine. Normal. Maybe it _was_ just an ill, delusional man who was now getting the treatment he needed. Maybe.

Even so, something heavy settled into Aubree's gut as she flopped back down. The office chair, usually so comfy she just sank into it, made her restless. "You're sure he's safe? He won't attack anyone else."

"If it'll help you shut up, then __yes.__ They gave him sedatives and Doctor Amri is doing tests as we speak."

With that knowledge in mind, Aubree felt safe enough to settle back down and get to work. Even if she kept checking every face that came past, at least it put her mind somewhat at ease.

* * *

By the time the replacement receptionist arrived to take over her shift, Aubree was ready to pass out. She let out a muffled yawn as she scrambled for her bag, which had somehow ended up shoved between the desk and a box of old files. Her short arms weren't even close to reaching.

"Take your time," her coworker, Lee, laughed. "You're always in such a rush. Got another mural you need to finish?"

Giving up, Aubree ducked under the desk, on her hands and knees, to unhook her handbag. "No new clients this week," she muttered, "I just want to get home quick tonight."

"I feel you," Lee replied sagely, "with those weird attacks, I don't want to be out after dark either. You should learn to drive, Aub."

"Tell me about it," she replied. It was darker under the desk and her eyes strained to see where her bag was hooked. Finally she saw it; the box had trapped the bag’s handle, so she tugged, but it wouldn't budge. "Hey Lee, could you help me with this?"

No reply. Aubree popped out to ask again - only to smack her head against the top of the desk. A grunt escaped her lips as she ducked, stars bursting in front of her eyes. __Shit.__ A hand flew to her head, cradling it, as her vision blurred. 

It occurred to her atthat moment that something was wrong. Lee hated swearing; he criticised her constantly. So why wasn't he giving her his famous lecture? In fact she couldn't hear him at all over the din of the hospital waiting room. 

It was then that she heard the first scream pierce through the jumble of voices. It pierced through the room and for one long, agonising moment everything was silent. Then a cacophony of shrieking and yelling exploded around her.

Aubree tore her bag free and propelled to her feet. Wild eyes darted across the waiting room, searching for the source-

There he was, her first patient from that morning. He struggled against two doctors with flailing limbs, kicking wildly. His thrashing arms struck one doctor in the face and he reeled back cradling his jaw. The second doctor, now alone in restraining the patient, couldn't keep up with his twisting body. It didn't take long for the patient to break free and he shoved the doctor with such force he slammed back against the wall. Within seconds the doctor crumpled, unconscious.

No middle aged man, no matter how fit, was strong enough to do that.

Aubree edged around the desk, eyes wide and fixed on the man - _strigoi _-__ the entire time. Her shaking hands reached for the silver knife deep inside her handbag - yet she hesitated. She couldn't just __stab__ someone, even if they were dangerous. That would make her a _murderer._

A shrill scream ripped through the waiting room, drowning out the rest of the chaos. A tiny woman, barely twenty, shoved past the crowd forming near the patient. She grabbed for him, called his name, eyes pleading. His daughter? Friend? For a moment the man seemed to calm, black eyes softening as he ceased his struggling; but then he snarled deep in his throat and reared back.

Aubree knew what that meant. She darted forward, hurling herself across the desk even as her injured foot protested in pain - but it was too late. 

Frozen, Aubree could only stare as the _strigoi's_ stinger parted his shrivelled lips, dripping saliva onto the tiled floor. The woman twisted desperately and a cry caught in her throat - but the _strigoi_ clung to her tiny shoulders - and latched onto her neck. 

Silence. The entire waiting room fell quiet in those following moments. No one dared move, their bodies frozen in fear and wonder. Even Aubree stood motionless, breath caught in her throat. There was a moment where the entire world seemed stagnant - then a woman screamed, stumbled back, and the hysteria began.

A man - a nurse, Aubree realised - shoved her out of the way as he barged past. She threw out an arm to steady herself against the wall, breathing heavily, watching as he elbowed doctors and patients alike out of the way. At first it seemed like he wanted to help, and Aubree felt herself sigh in relief. _Finally_ someone was in control. But no, he veered to the left, eyes wild as he raced for the front doors. Patients followed suit, abandoning the hospital before they too got hurt.

"Aubree!"

A gasp left her lips as she spun. Dark blue eyes locked onto hazel ones and a hand waved over the crowd. _Lee._ She had to push past a young woman as she fought to reach him, hand outstretched. When she captured his hand in her own she sighed, relief flooding through her. "Lee, holy shit."

His olive skin was ashy, sweat beading on his forehead. "We need to get out of here. My truck's in the staff car park."

"We can't __leave,__ " Aubree gasped, "you saw that guy, and there's someone else in the same situation in a ward upstairs. We have to help."

Lee snatched his hand back, his glare to fierce Aubree flinched back. "We're receptionists, Aub, what can we do? You saw that nurse bail. If even the experts are leaving, it's time we did too."

He was right. God, she hated it, but it didn't make it less true. Her hand stiffened around his wrist. The _strigoi_ was lost to the crowd now. Dozens of hysterical people threw one another to the side in their desperation, and one _strigoi_ among them was indistinguishable. Still, whether or not Lee was right, she couldn't just leave these people. That wasn't _her._

When she slid the carved silver knife from her bag, Lee's eyes snapped wide. "Why do you have _that_ in your handbag?"

"It's a long story, but someone told me silver works wonders against these things."

"Things?" Lee laughed; but to her ears it sounded delirious.

The knife was heavy in her hands, nothing like her simple kitchen knives at home. She gripped it so hard her knuckled turned whiter than the _strigoi's_ skin. "You can't think that's a __person__ any more?" she demanded. She had to stand on her toes to see over the crowd, and even though her chest hammered like crazy, Aubree knew what she had to do. As unbelievable as it all was, it was real. No one else knew what she knew.

"Aub, you can't-"

"Get to your truck and go _home,_ Lee," Aubree called over the shouts. Already she was pushing past people, weaving her way through; and she only glanced back at Lee before the horde swallowed her up. It was only once she was in the thick of it that things __clicked.__ She shuddered, and the bitter taste of bile tickled the back of her throat. Even so she kept pushing, telling people to _get out_ and go home; but no one listened to the voice of reason in a panic.

Something wet and warm squelched under her foot. Looking down she saw __red__ splashed across the white floor. She followed it, peering past people's legs, until she found the source. Her blood ran cold. Annie lay by the emergency exit, head lolled to the side. Her open eyes were glassy, her skin grey like she had been dead for days. 

Aubree lurched backward and a gasp caught in her throat. That _thing_ had got her; did that mean Annie was a _strigoi_ not too? Tears prickled her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Then Annie _twitched,_ her blank eyes blinked - and Aubree tumbled backward with a cry-

Solid arms caught her, hoisted her onto her feet as if she weighed nothing. Aubree just had time to turn, wiping tears from her face, and saw a hooded figure shove through the crowd. A silver sword tipped with bone clung to his back. _Quinlan _.__ If he was here, then that meant everything would be okay. 

Aubree allowed herself to relax, ignoring the way an elderly man elbowed past her as he raced for the door. The knife slackened in her grip and it was as if the energy had been sucked out of her. Wiping away fresh tears, she looked down to Annie. Motionless again. Had she imagined the whole thing?

A woman's scream rattled through her, echoing from somewhere across the waiting room. Her head snapped up, eyes wide, just in time to see white blood splatter across the far wall. Even from this distance it didn't take a genius to figure it out. Aubree _hated_ the relief that spread through her chest; the relief that she didn't have to do it herself. With one last lingering look toward the chaos, she fled.

The crisp evening air was a million miles away from the stifling pandemonium of the hospital. Dusky grey settled over the silent car park, but soon enough it would be total darkness. Lee's dirty red truck sat at the far end, untouched since he had arrived. Was he still inside? Her stomach lurched - but everything seemed so far away now, so _unreal._ Aubree knew if she looked back her false sense of peace would shatter.

She only made it five steps before collapsing. The knife clattered from her hands as she dropped to her knees, her handbag tumbling to the side. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream and lash out - but all she managed was a muffled gasp. 

How long Aubree crouched there, she didn't know. By the time she looked up, wiping away more tears, the sky was dark. Inside, although still muffled, the discord had quietened. Heaving herself to her feet took every ounce of energy and left her exhausted, and she barely remembered to lift the knife too. 

When she turned around, Quinlan was waiting. Beneath the hood his eyes glittered, like he was studying her. "You knew that woman?"

Oh. He was talking about Annie. "Yeah," she muttered. God, she didn't even _like_ Annie - but no one deserved that. Aubree scrubbed at her eyes - but her tears were all used up. "Did... did you take care of it?"

A nod. "I did; however the _strigoi_ had drained more than one human by the time I arrived. Did you not use the knife?"

"No I... I couldn't just __stab__ someone." She dropped her gaze, scrutinising the ground and her dirty Converse. She had come so close, her mind set on what she had to do; thank God he had arrived when he did. If she had been forced to kill that _strigoi. _..__ she shuddered.

"Perhaps," Quinlan stated, "you are not as strong as I thought. If you refuse to use it, I will take my weapon back. It is time I left this place."

Craning her neck back, Aubree caught sight of patients through the windows. Some had their faces pressed to the glass, staring at Quinlan; some roamed through the rows of plastic chairs. All were in shock. Sighing, she turned back to him. "You're just going to leave them?"

"As opposed to what?"

Throwing up her arms in defeat, Aubree couldn't find the words. Was he so careless? If he cared enough to kill those __strigoi__ why didn't he want to stay and help? "There are dead bodies in there, bodies with white blood and - and _stingers._ Dead coworkers, friends, __family."__ She ran a shaking hand through her ginger hair. "You're just going to disappear now the action is over, forget about the victims?"

"This incident is just part of a much larger plan; I cannot afford to waste time. Humans are resilient; they will be fine." Quinlan turned without another word, shoving gloved hands deep inside his coat pockets. For a moment the light caught him and Aubree glimpsed a sharp cheekbone, white eyes, translucent skin. Then he slipped from the overhead lamp post and the imagine vanished.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Aubree called after him, "is that why you're so damn heartless?"

Quinlan paused, head tilted as if to reply; but only a low rattle escaped his lips. Then he left her, alone, for the second time in as many days.


	3. Chapter 3

It took less than ten seconds for Aubree to throw away her inhibitions - and run after Quinlan. If he thought she would let him leave - _again -_ without telling her a damn thing, he was wrong. 

Quinlan halted by the road, body still. Aubree didn't notice until she nearly slammed into him; and she threw out a defensive hand, skittering back. Before she had the time to say a word he turned. Beneath the hood, his lips curled. "Are you planning on following me all night?"

"No," she squeaked. Aubree withdrew in on herself, folding thin arms across her chest. "I just... I know I should help, but I can't go back in there. Not after what I saw."

"You want answers." A statement, not a question. His gaze was unblinking, cold and unsympathetic. Aubree doubted she was anything more than a mild nuisance. 

Out there in the dark, alone, Aubree came to the realisation of how crazy it all was. Here she was, demanding answers from a man who could kill her in an instant if he decided she wasn't worth it. Sucking in a breath she asked, "this is just the beginning, right? The guy last night, and now the hospital... how bad is it?"

His lips quirked; perhaps a smile, perhaps just her imagination. "There are many more _strigoi_ here; and this outbreak itself is a test for something much bigger."

Aubree released a breath. "How screwed are we?"

" _ _Royally,__ you might say."

A blink. Was that... a joke? There was no energy left in her tired bones to laugh, but she let out a soft snort. "So there's murderous _strigoi_ wandering around the island, and I'm guessing you're not here by coincidence. How does someone become a vampire hunter, anyway?"

Quinlan's full lips curled into a frown - and that moment was gone. Whatever she had said it was _wrong _,__ and once again that impassive expression lowered across his features. " _That_ is a long story - and not one I willingly share. Enough questions; I must leave before I am seen."

Aubree herself knew she had to stay; the police would want witnesses. Not to mention people were hurt in there. And __Annie,__ God... 

"You should go home; it isn't safe."

"I can't _leave _,__ what if-"

"Are you a doctor?" The way he folded his arms across his chest made it seem as if he was _challenging_ her. He waited for her answer despite already knowing.

Aubree relented. "Fine, I'll go."

"I will walk you there."

Quinlan strode ahead without looking back; leaving Aubree to stare, open mouthed, and scrabble to catch up. "So you'll abandon everyone at the hospital, but walk me home?"

A black four-by-four pulled into the car park, lights blinding. As it passed them Aubree saw an elderly man in the passenger seat, arm cradled to his chest. She hated to think what he would see once he went inside. She turned away, knowing it was better not to watch.

Quinlan and Aubree walked in silence. Even though his pace was slow - despite being so damn _tall _-__ she lagged behind. Her mind was reeling, unable to process everything; did she __want__ to? Even walking down the empty street, the hospital fading out of view behind her, she couldn't stop thinking about it. About Lee's terrified face, about how the _strigoi_ threw the doctors to the ground. Annie surfaced to her thoughts again and in her distracted state she nearly tripped over the cobbled path; then she snapped back to reality just in time to catch herself against the wall.

"If you're always this clumsy, how do you expect to defend yourself against _strigoi?_ "

"I can take care of myself," Aubree snapped. Dull pain settled in her foot; had she reopened the wound? The urge to cry rose in her chest, that ache refusing to leave; but no tears spilled. She was just too drained. Tomorrow would be _awful;_ but right then she didn't have the energy to care.

The squat brick building Aubree called home swam into view. Even lit by the lamps lining the road darkness swallowed it. The building, usually so peaceful, looked __eerie.__ Eyeing Quinlan, she fished for the keys; one for the lobby and one or her flat. 

When she stepped inside the lobby and the warm air rushed at her, Aubree let out a shaky gasp. It was quiet, but just _being there_ made everything seem okay. Well, maybe not - but __easier.__ "So now what?"

Quinlan shrugged. He never entered the building; just lurked outside, still hidden by shadow. She had to wonder if it was a conscious choice, or if shadows just followed him. "Now you stay where it's safe, and I kill every __s_ trigoi _inhabiting this place."

"You hate them, huh?"

"They are a plague," he answered, "and I must stop the one who started it all."

Oh. She had never considered that __one__ person was responsible. "Well, I hope you get him," she replied. It sounded stupid even to her own ears; but what else was there to say?

"As do I."

Aubree blinked, eyes bleary, and resisted the urge to yawn. All she wanted was to pass out in bed and forget about everything. Impossible, maybe, but she was determined to try. "Look," she said, "thanks for-"

 _Crash._ Above them something plunged to the floor. The ceiling shook, dust training down onto Aubree's vibrant hair - and then a woman howled. 

"Stay here."

"What? Someone just tripped-"

Quinlan moved in a blur so fast she didn't even __see__ him move until he was at the stairs. He unsheathed the sword in one broad swing - and then darted up the stairs without a word.

Aubree followed. Up the stairs and around the corner, Aubree's aching feet barely carried her. Her stomach twisted as she followed down the dark corridor, watching the back of Quinlan's coat.

He halted outside of room 204. Head tilted, focused. His throat clicked and rattled.

On the other side of the door, someone hissed in an uncanny amalgamation of human and... something __else.__ Glass crunched, likely trampling through whatever had been dropped; and then the door rattled on its hinges as whoever - _whatever _-__ it was threw itself against it. 

The full body force was enough even for Quinlan to jump back. "It knows we're here. You should have stayed downstairs."

"Well I didn't," she snapped. Thin fingers turned white as she gripped the knife. It felt clumsy in her hands, foreign. It wasn't as if she knew how to use it; but knowing she __had it,__ at least, made the pit in her stomach lessen.

Quinlan reached for the door, although it was locked. The _strigoi_ threw itself against the wood again and the door rattled. Unfazed, he turned to her. "Stand back."

"Why?"

The question had hardly passed her lips before Quinlan reeled back and his heavy boots collided with the door. Wood splintered and the door burst wide, battering against the wall as it swung. Then he marched through, sword swinging by his side. 

Aubree hovered in the hall, blinking as she stared into the ravaged apartment of her neighbours. 

A low growl woke her from her stupor; The _strigoi _-__ once a middle aged woman Aubree had no name for - crouched on the high back of an armchair. A second appeared from behind the busted door, fresh blood dripping from his torn lips. He snarled, his throat rattled; and then the long, muscular stinger shot from his open mouth.

Aubree ducked just in time. The stinger brushed past her and left a sticky trail across her shoulder. Then it thudded against the wall behind, missing its target by mere inches. Bile rose to the back of her throat as she jerked back, her heart thundering.

Behind the _strigoi,_ Quinlan raised his sword. Up close she saw it was bone like she had assumed - _real_ too, by the look of it. She watched, hypnotised, as he brought down the sword, slicing across the _strigoi's_ neck. White blood sprayed as the silver sword cut clean through; and the flesh sizzled as if the metal was burning. The head rolled across the room, only stopping when it hit the leg of the armchair with a dull, wet thud. 

The second __strigoi__ chittered, edging back. Its ragged lips parted to reveal the tip of its stinger; but there was a spark of recognition when its pitch black eyes landed on Quinlan. Like it __knew__ what was coming.

There was no time for it to react - no time for _Aubree_ to react either - as Quinlan bolted forward. He was barely more than a blur in the semi-darkness and Aubree didn't even __see__ as the sword sliced through the _strigoi's_ neck. The body collapsed, leaking milky white blood. It continued to twitch even after it fell; claw tipped nails trembling.

When Quinlan turned, wiping blood from his sword onto the armchair, she saw his face. Sickly light from a bent lamp in the corner cast across his pale face, giving her a clear view of his faded eyes, the white veins underneath his near translucent skin. Worst of all she caught a flash of bright crimson peeking from underneath his collar, something he had hidden so well the first time they met. 

_Strigoi._ In hindsight, it was a wonder she hadn't realised earlier.

He stepped forward, long arms reaching up to settle the sword in its sheath across his back. 

In response Aubree skittered back with a shriek muffled behind a fist. "Don't come any closer!" she warned. When she brandished the knife, it seemed stupid even to __her;__ what could she do against a man that took out two of his own kind as if it was nothing?

He paused and the light shifted away, once again swallowing his face in darkness. "You are afraid." A statement, not an accusation. His voice, cold as steel, betrayed nothing.

The knife trembled in her hand - her _entire body_ trembled - as she stumbled back. Her foot hit something soft, something _squishy_ and she had to fight not to look back. With her stormy blue eyes fixed on him she edged around the dead _strigoi,_ fumbling for the door.

"I would be careful if I were you," he stated, "there well may be more _strigoi_ in this building."

"Like you, you mean."

Head tilted, he regarded her silently. "No, not like me. These __creatures__ and I are not comparable. I saved your life; remember that."

Her scrabbling hand found purchase on the door handle, twisting to throw it open. Yet something kept her rooted to the spot. Fire burned in her chest, the urge to run growing but her body unable to move. He was __one of them;__ a monster just like the rest of the _strigoi._ The vampires.

"I won't stop you from leaving," he quipped, and beneath the hood she saw his lips quirk into a frown. "However, it's clear you're not ready to take on _strigoi_ on your own."

Her small fists clenched; one around the silver knife and one around the door handle. They were cramping, but she barely noticed. Her pulse roared in her ears. "Why are you here? You said this was a test for something bigger, something worse. Are you a part of it?"

He scoffed, rolling white eyes as if she was an idiot. Unease twisted in her stomach as he stalked closer, but she refused to back down. He towered above her by at least a foot, so tall she had to crane her neck upward as he growled, "I'm the only one who can _stop it,_ so I suggest you leave the questions and let me work." His throat clicked menacingly, and by then Aubree knew it was the stinger lurking. It made her stomach squirm.

Quinlan continued to stare her down, milky eyes glowing through the darkness of the hood. She only held his gaze for a second more before it was too much; with her heart thundering and bile rising in her throat Aubree spun, threw the front door wide, and sprinted into the hall.

She half expected him to follow, stalking her like a wild animal and its prey - but when she whirled in a flurry of red hair and panic, the hallway was empty.

Aubree wasted no time hauling ass back to her apartment, locking the door firmly behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please consider commenting! This won't be close to being my most popular fic but I still appreciate people taking interest in what I write~ I just want to share the Quinlan love!


	4. Chapter 4

Aubree called in sick the next morning. The aftermath of the _strigoi_ attack pushed them into overdrive - but she simply _refused_ to go back. At least for now. Instead she spent the day throwing back countless mugs of tea, meandering about the flat in a daze. It was days like this she wished she had a pet to keep her company. The flat was too quiet, too empty to stop her mind from wandering.

When she went to make her tenth cup of tea that day, her hand found an empty jar. Squinting, Aubree felt her heart drop. As unhealthy as it was the caffeine helped; and making the tea gave her hands something to do. So either she had to do without - or go to the store. __That__ in itself was fine; but it was starting to darken outside. What was the chance of getting attacked by _strigoi_ three days in a row?

The silver knife sat on her bedside, where it had been since she had stumbled into her room the night before. The bedroom door stood open and it was just visible in the semi darkness as she glanced over. The trip would be quick - just a jaunt across the street and then back. If she took the knife, everything would be fine. Right?

Before she had the chance to think about it, Aubree had grabbed her leather jacket from the rack on the wall. She shoved on her ancient Converse too, grabbed her purse, and slipped silently from her apartment.

Outside was silent. The hall stretched on forever, dark save for the infrequent sickly yellow light provided by wall lamps. There wasn't a single sound from her neighbours. No arguments from the couple next door, no sounds of a TV or laughter or music. Just silence. Darkness.

It occurred to Aubree that perhaps her flat wasn't much safer than the outside.

Without allowing herself to think about it, she hurried to the stairs. She didn't breathe again until she was outside, gulping down crisp evening air as she brushed bright orange hair from her eyes. Unease gripped her chest, her hands shook - and when the flash of a car's light passed by she flinched.

When her eyes flickered up, scanning the street for threats, they landed on a dim figure across the street. He stood perfectly still, head tilted to the side. Thin, straggly hair clung to his skull and hung limply in his eyes. 

"Hello?" The figure didn't move. Aubree regretted her damn desperation for tea as she took a tiny step forward. "Hello?" she called out again, eyes narrowing. Her shoes hit the damp road as she inched closer, but already she knew the truth. This wasn't a person; at least not any more. Pale hands clasped the ornate silver knife.

A weak yellow glow illuminated the person's features. Pale, __sickly__ skin and dark eyes ringed with red. Absurdly, Aubree found herself wondering why Quinlan's eyes were so white while the other _strigoi's_ eyes were utterly black. Those thoughts vanished when the _strigoi_ twitched, throat rattling.

"Stay back!" she warned, voice shaking. Did he even understand her? To her they seemed more like _zombies_ than vampires, dead and crumbling with no sign of intelligence-

" _You._ Human."

Aubree halted. Her pulse skipped and she sucked in a breath, but her body refused to budge. Did it just _talk?_

"You have met the Born. Where is he now?" His speech was halting, awkward. It rattled against the back of Aubree's skull and she winced. "If you reveal his whereabouts to me, I will see you are spared from what is to come."

"Are you the one who started this?" Aubree called. It echoed, bounced from one wall to another in the narrow street. Even to her own ears, the confidence was shaky at best.

Aubree blinked - and then wind rushed past her, ripped at her hair. In the second it took her to brush hair from her eyes the strigoi was _there,_ mere inches from her face. She flinched, darted back - but one claw tipped hand shot out to snatch her by the arm. 

A grin peeled across his face, revealing black, teeth. Aubree was hit with the bitter stench of rot as he closed the distance between them. Aubree braced herself for the wet touch of the stinger, for it to pierce her skin-

"No, I am not _the one,_ " the _strigoi_ hissed, "as if the Master would grace his presence with this simple test. No, I am simply one piece on the chessboard. You can call me Emrys." Something __did__ touch her then, and her skin went cold. The stinger caressed the exposed side of her neck, almost like a kiss, curling around her shoulder-

Aubree lashed out with the silver knife. It sliced through the air without proper direction, arm swinging wildly; it missed the _strigoi_ entirely and soared harmlessly past his neck. Aubree's pulse roared as she slashed again and again; but the __strigoi__ darted away with such speed all she saw was a hazy white blur.

"I see what he sees in you now," he snarled, "you remind him of another." He regarded her coldly as his stinger rattled; blinking slowly. Then he was __gone,__ leaving behind only a breeze.

All around her the still air seemed to buzz - but then she realised it was only the coursing of her own pulse in her ears. She swallowed thickly, wild eyes darting across the street; but she was alone. 

Across the street a light flickered on, but whoever lived inside had the sense not to investigate. Aubree looked up to see an elderly woman peering at her from behind the window; but then she pulled the thick curtains tight across the window, and vanished.

Although there wasn't a single soul around, Aubree __needed__ to get home. Without giving herself even a moment to think, she sprinted all the way back. She didn't encounter another soul, human or _strigoi,_ the entire way back.

It wasn't until the lock clicked behind her that she relaxed. Her heart drummed inside her chest, her breath escaped in heaving gasps. For a moment she stood there, forehead pressed against the cool wood of her front door, and breathed.

Until a hiss broke the uneasy silence, a low warning. Aubree spun, still clutching her knife, but there was no one there. Except her bedroom door was open just a crack, and Aubree __always__ closed the doors before she left. In case of a fire, her mother always said; it slows the flames. There wasn't a fire __now__ so it didn't matter save for the fact it had been closed when she left the flat.

Cautiously she crept forward, feet soft against the fluffy carpet, and peeked inside.

Quinlan. He stood facing the window - the only window that faced out onto the street - and she saw the faint outline of his features in the reflection. White eyes snapped to her own greyish blue ones. When he turned his face was as stone cold as ever, and Aubree wondered if he even knew _how_ to smile. 

Given her own encounter just minutes ago she didn't much feel like smiling either. "What the _hell_ are you doing in my house?"

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. It was no smile, not even __close,__ and only served to make Aubree scowl further. "I came through the window. You should lock those, you know."

"That doesn't answer my question," she snapped, "vampires can climb buildings now?"

"Indeed." His face, even hidden by the ever present black hood, _infuriated_ her. His smirk, his quirked brow - even though he had no hair to speak of - all told her he was _mocking_ her. Yet his voice was as deadpan as ever.

"At least get out of my bedroom, _pervert _,__ " Aubree huffed - and swung open the door to make a point. 

"It's the only window that faces the street," Quinlan stated mildly; as if he truly didn't see a problem with breaking in through someone's bedroom window. He did as she asked, at least, slinking silently into the living room without another word. He then hovered by Aubree's overstuffed armchair - a hand-me-down from her grandfather - but refused to sit.

Aubree didn't either. Instead she watched him warily, eyes trained on the shadowed face beneath the hood. He somehow looked __worse__ in the bright light of her living space; his deep-set eyes and sickly pale skin were in plain view, as was the intricate red designs painted into his neck. She __knew__ what lay beneath, and it made her shiver.

"You're wondering why I came here."

"Yeah, duh." The words slipped from between her lips without thought - and immediately she winced. Talking back to him seemed like a bad investment. His white gaze fixed on her, unblinking; and Aubree deflected his gaze. 

"To put it plainly," he started - and Aubree was thankful he hadn't noticed her blunder, "I need a human. You may be frail, but you _can_ do things I cannot." He regarded her cooly, hands clasped neatly in front of him. It felt like he was _assessing_ her - and Aubree was sure she was about to find out what for. True enough, he answered her thoughts seconds later. "I have a control centre close by, although truly it is little more than an empty building as of right now. You work in a hospital, yes?"

"You know I do," Aubree answered cautiously. Why did he need to know? 

"Then you will have access to medical supplies. You may need them in the future."

Thick brows scrunched, Aubree's broad nose crumpled. "Why?" 

"Because you are joining my cause."

Absurdly, the urge to laugh bubbled up in Aubree's throat. _Ridiculous!_ Was this some kind of absurd __strigoi__ attempt at a joke? She half expected him to laugh, or at least give him one of those _infuriating_ smirks - but his face remained as impassive as ever. It only made her frown more, uneasiness rising in her stomach. Then it clicked. "You're serious?"

"I am." No elaboration, no attempts at explanation. _Nothing._

This was insane. Unbelievable enough that people-eating vampires had broken out in the Isle of Wight, but now he wanted her to _fight them?_ Aubree hadn't even noticed she still clutched the silver knife until it slipped from her fingers and embedded itself onto her fluffy rug. Not even the reverberating __thud__ shocked her back to reality. 

Quinlan must have realised she didn't have anything to say, because he rolled those bright white eyes as if to say _for God's sake._ "True, you're hardly my first choice; but I have trained far more stubborn Sun Hunters than you; human and _strigoi_ alike. No doubt Zivah will take a shine to you."

 _Sun Hunters. Zivah._ What the hell was he talking about? The words settled in her mind but they meant _nothing._ "I've never fought anyone in my __life -__ not unless Roller Derby counts and that's just a game!" she spluttered, fumbling for words she simply didn't have.

"No human is born ready; we will simply have to make you so. Besides, I doubt anyone else on this sleepy island is much better."

Mind reeling, Aubree only blinked. "No way, absolutely not. Nope."

"I don't remember mentioning you had a choice."

"Well-" Admittedly, Aubree had no comeback. Despite the warmth of her coat, Aubree suddenly felt __cold.__ Like the heat had been sucked from her. Shivering, she heaved a deep breath. "What if I refuse?" 

"Then I take you anyway. Or I kill you." Underneath the light, his pale eyes glinted. Another awful reminder that despite how __eloquent__ he was, Quinlan was still one of them. A monster.

Aubree shuffled away; yet she didn't dare take her eyes from him. Not that it would have made a difference; if he truly wanted to, he could have killed her at any moment. She was helpless and he knew it. Eventually, with a shaking breath, she caved. "I'll join you," she muttered.

"Good. It is late; sleep, and I will arrive tomorrow to escort you."

That was it? A hundred half formed questions surged, each of them dancing on her lips for barely a moment before being shoved back in favour of another. Yet Quinlan turned from her, long coat sweeping, and turned to the door. "Pack only the essentials; sentimentality has no place in this. Be ready for sunset."

Aubree's lips parted, eyes wide as she sprung forward - but before she had the chance to utter a word Quinlan threw open her front door and disappeared into the hall.

When she flung herself through the door and darted into the hall, he had already vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fics are great from the beginning, some take a minute to get going - and some start off really strong but lose their way. I think this one is turning into the last option, and i'm really not sure I like where it's going despite having a detailed plan. I'd really appreciate some sweet comments and/or constructive criticism on my writing style!~


	5. Chapter 5

Aubree hadn’t budged from her spot on the bed in what could have been hours - but in reality it had only been fifteen minutes. Clothes splayed out in front of her, ranging from simple leggings and hoodies to her favourite dresses. Even the dress she had worn to her sister’s wedding three years ago - a simple red garment that touched her ankles. It was nothing special to look at - but the thought of leaving it behind made her stomach churn.

Outside the afternoon sunshine, as weak as it had been, was already beginning to wane. Before long darkness would overtake the island, swallowing it up. Aubree wasn’t prepared for what came when that happened.

She ran a gentle hand across the silky crimson fabric of her bridesmaid dress, enjoying how soft it was even after years in her wardrobe. But Quinlan’s words echoed in her ears like a warning.

_Take only the necessities._

That left her with a suitcase full of appropriate clothes - hoodies, leggings. Breathable materials. Toiletries too, and a handful of books just in case. Her flat was so full, every drawer and shelf stacked full; yet this measly collection was all she could take.

 _You’ll come back to it all,_ Aubree reminded herself. Then, _probably._ Her stomach rolled as she thought about the possibility that might not happen.

Outside, three storeys down, a dog barked. It rose louder and louder until the poor thing was almost _screaming _-__ and then the clamour cut itself off. Silence followed.

Aubree’s heart skipped and her almond eyes darted to the window. There was nothing to see so far up, except perhaps for a shadow squirming. She had kept the windows locked since Quinlan had used one as a front door - and she pressed her face against the glass. Steam billowed out in front of her, steaming up the dirty window.

Nothing. Nothing except for the beautiful blend of pink and red that cast across the sky. When had it gotten dark? Had she been reminiscing for so long? It was almost silly, save for the real threat behind it all. 

No doubt _strigoi_ were roaming the streets already - and maybe even worse, Quinlan too. 

With one last longing look at the silky red dress splayed out on her bed, Aubree began tossing the _important_ things into a suitcase. She hadn't even realise the tears that slipped past her eyes until they pattered onto the bed sheets. 

a dull _thud_ reached her ears and Aubrey flinched, pausing with her hand clutching a pair of ratty, paint-stained jeans. She sucked in a breath, eyes darting to the door - but the sound was from _outside,_ in the hall. Not her flat. Relief flooded her and she sighed, almost __laughing__ at her own jumpiness; until she realised what that noise meant. Someone - or _something_ was outside. And it wasn't Quinlan.

Leaving her half-packed suitcase behind, Aubree crept into the hall. She didn't hesitate to grab the silver knife from her bedside table, gripping it in one pale hand. Although she had yet to use it, and although it still weighed awkwardly in her small hands, her pulse slowed in her chest as she grasped it. The ornate carvings that ran along the hilt somehow comforted her.

There it was again, that muffled thumping. Slow and rhythmic, like an animal throwing itself against her front door. Except it was far too loud to be a dog or a cat - and how would one get up here, anyway? Her anxiety piqued as she gripped the door handle - and when she stood on her toes to glance through the peephole her stomach flipped.

Dawn. She wore her work clothes; a pair of black trousers and a blouse. A dentist's face mask hung limply from her neck yet her white coat was nowhere in sight. She stood still, eyes blank - until they darted up to the peephole and a slow, languid smile pulled tight across her lips.

Aubree flinched back with a scream caught in her throat. It was stupid, this was her __sister,__ but the uncanny movements made her stomach squirm. Breathing deeply, she attempted to calm her racing heartbeat. It didn't work. Instead she settled for running a hand through her mess of ginger locks and forcing a smile, "I'll be two seconds, Dawn, let me grab the keys!"

By the time she had fetched the keys from their place on the coffee table and darted back, that weird thumping had returned. _Thud, thud, thud._ Something was wrong, Aubree realised with a jolt. For a moment she hovered with the keys in one hand and Quinlan's knife in the other; and then she took a risk. Keys in the lock, door swinging open; it all happened within _seconds,_ Aubree not allowing herself time to think.

There stood Dawn. Now she could see her, it occurred to Aubree how __wrong__ she looked. Her coppery orange hair was a mess instead of its usual bouncy ponytail; and her skin was so __pale,__ like she hadn't seen the sun in months. Sure, they didn't get much sunshine anyway, but she looked outright _ill._

Aubree's lips parted to _ask are you okay? _-__ but she never had the chance to utter a word. Dawn flew at her with an inhuman screech, thin hands outstretched to grapple at her neck. With a breathless gasp Aubree stumbled to the side just in time and those hands - _clawed hands! _-__ skimmed past where her throat had been only moments ago.

"Dawn, what are you-"

Dawn wobbled as she regained her balance, like a baby deer using its legs for the first time. Then she whipped around, twisting, writhing, and __smiled.__ Something dark and pointed poked between her lips, lipstick still crusted around the edges.

_Stinger._

Aubree realised the truth just in time. The appendage shot from Dawn's lips and with a shriek she reeled back, scampering to the left and throwing herself over the sofa. Aubree tumbled, dropping onto the ground - and winced as her elbow struck the hardwood floor.

She popped up a moment later, hand cramping around the knife and elbow throbbing, to see Quinlan's broad frame eclipsing the doorway. In one fluid moment he reached back and drew his sword, shimmering in the wane light.

"Wait!" Aubree hollered as she darted from her hiding place, "that's my sister!"

Dawn's throat clicked, head twisting as she regarded Quinlan warily. 

Quinlan's white eyes shifted from Dawn to Aubree - and if he had any eyebrows to raise, he would have. "This _strigoi_ isn't your sister any more."

"Look at her," Aubree snapped, tears threatening to fall, "she isn't even moving! She isn't attacking."

Quinlan smirked, revealing jagged teeth. "Just give it a moment."

"What do you-"

Dawn's gaze snapped to Aubree and her lips peeled back. Her teeth were already beginning to rot, but they were soon swallowed up as the stinger forced itself past her lips. It _pulsated,_ saliva dripped and pooled on the floor. Then Dawn pounced.

Aubree __screamed__ as Dawn drove her into the wall. Talon tipped fingers dug into her skin, clawed at her through her t-shirt. Aubree scrabbled to shove her away as hot tears blurred her vision - but Dawn didn’t even notice Aubree's blows to her arms, her chest, her shoulders. 

"Get _off me _!__ "

Dawn only gurgled and clicked, saliva staining her white blouse.

Aubree kicked and twisted, throwing herself to the side just in time to miss the fleshy stinger as it shot for her. She collapsed to the ground, knife scattering, tears splashing onto the wood and rug below her. Scrambling to her feet Aubree's gaze darted around the room - but Quinlan had Dawn in his grasp, thick arms holding her back with ease.

" _Now_ do you understand?"

"She's my _sister,_ jerk." Aubree's lower lip wobbled as she scrubbed at her eyelids with a shaky hand. Although she shambled over, it was impossible to make herself get any closer. She froze just meters away, fresh tears pricking her eyes as she watched Dawn writhe in Quinlan's hold.

Dawn snarled, mouth stretching wide as the stinger rattled deep in her throat. Then it sprung from her parted lips with an echoing jolt - only to stop short. It hung in the air as Dawn twisted, glaring with hollow eyes.

"Be careful; the stinger can reach up to six foot."

Aubree’s stomach wrenched as she watched Dawn against Quinlan - not that it did any good. Even as Dawn shrieked and convulsed and contorted, Quinlan barely fought back.

“What now?” Aubree murmured. Her voice was almost lost to the rabid shrieks of her sister - no, the __strigoi -__ and she bit down on her lower lip.

“Now, you need to kill her.”

 _Insane._ That’s what he was. She blinked once, twice, the words echoing in her mind even as Quinlan fell silent. How could he expect her to __murder__ her sister? Wasn’t killing __his__ thing?

 _If you have to join him,_ a little part of her brain warned, _you might end up doing much worse._

Although the hood concealed his face - and was obscured by Dawn’s flailing limbs - she saw him frown. As if __he__ had the right to be upset! “Once changed, _strigoi_ seek to turn their loved ones. You and your sister love each other, do you not?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“If that is true,” Quinlan replied with the patience of someone talking to a small child, “then she will not stop until she turns you. It is foolish to think you can leave her as she is.”

He was so _emotionless,_ so heartless it made her blood boil. Heat rose to her cheeks, pulse rising. “So it’s better for __me,__ is that it? I should do the right thing, or whatever? If you had any heart, you wouldn’t be so damn clinical.”

Dawn hissed, gnashed her teeth, and clawed at Quinlan’s gloved hands.

He didn’t flinch, just held one arm tight against her neck as the other pinned her arms. “Perhaps you’re right. I __am__ heartless; but you have too much. If you expect me to train you-”

“I never _asked._ You didn’t give me a _choice _,__ _ _”__ Aubree cried before she stopped herself. She clapped a hand over her lips, eyes wide and half expecting Quinlan to lash out - but he never did. His expression never changed, his posture never faltered.

“Then think of it as putting the _strigoi_ out of their misery.”

She wanted to hit him. If Dawn hadn’t been between them, she might have - but no matter what way she looked at it, it was impossible. The entire situation was, and it only made her pulse rush quicker. She felt sick despite not eating all day.

Dawn wriggled in his grasp. Perhaps she had given up, realising it was futile - but Aubree doubted there was enough of a _person_ left in there. Aubree reached out a pale hand to brush away stray auburn hair - only to draw it back with a snap.

"If you cannot," Quinlan stated, "then perhaps it would be more... _palatable_ if I did it for you."

He wanted to kill her sister _for her?_ Anger welled up inside of her, outraged that he would even __suggest it -__ but then she halted, wide eyes fixated on his pale features beneath the hood. She had the knife right there in her hands, but she __refused__ to have her own family's blood on her hands. Vampire or not.

Aubree dropped her head, wrenching her gaze from what was left of Dawn. "All right," she conceded, "but I can't... I can't watch."

"Then step into the hall. I will collect you when it's over."

Aubree shuffled into the hall in slow motion. Her vision swam, dreamlike, and Dawn's inhuman screeching echoed as if from far away. The front door slammed behind her, the _thud_ ringing in her ears. Then she was alone.

Out there in the empty hall, the noise muffled by the thick walls and door, it was as if none of it was real. As if it was some elaborate dream - _nightmare _-__ that had plagued her, and now she was awake. The only clue that it was __real__ was the muted hissing from inside her flat as Dawn struggled.

 _It isn't Dawn any more,_ Aubree reminded herself. Swallowing thickly she forced herself to leave, to stagger down the hall and away from what she knew was about to happen. She didn't want to see it or hear it or even know when it had happened - although images rose in her mind as she collapsed onto the stairwell. The steps were cold beneath her, and as that coldness seeped into her skin she realised, for the first time, that she was barefoot.

It was impossible to know how long she sat like that, curled up at the top of the stairs with her head in her hands. Aubree had cried that night the first _strigoi_ attacked her, cried when she saw Annie's lifeless body in the corner of the emergency room, cried more times in that week than she had in her adult life - yet right then, as she thought of Dawn, she couldn't bring a single tear to fall.

She had spaced out, or perhaps somehow dozed, when she jolted upright with a startled gasp. When she spun around to see Quinlan lingering behind her, a chill ran down her spine. "Did you... take care of her?" It was all she could bring herself to say.

"Indeed," he replied "I see you didn't finish packing."

"I was _kind of_ preoccupied," she snapped. Hauling herself to her feet made her joints crack and her back ache like she was an old woman, not a twenty-seven year old. Wincing, she turned to him again. She hated to ask for help and __especially__ from him. "Could you... could you get my stuff for me? Just throw it all in the suitcase on the bed, I don't care but... I'm not going back in there." Head bowed, she bit down on her lip.

Aubree wasn't sure what she expected - but it wasn't for Quinlan's pale features to crinkle in something almost akin to _concern._ "Of course," he replied, "wait here." He turned without another word, coat swishing with each stride - and then tossed a smirk over his shoulder. "Perhaps shoes, too?"

Aubree let her gaze drop to the bright pink socks clinging to her feet. Usually she would have flushed __scarlet,__ but there was no energy left for embarrassment. Instead she just shrugged, parting her lips to reply - but Quinlan had already left her in the hallway.

* * *

A _car_ sat outside her building. Big and black, some kind of unmarked four-by-four. Quinlan had always arrived out of nowhere, all mysterious and unexplained. Even through the fog that had settled over her mind, Aubree realised how _weird_ it was to think of him driving. It made him more human, somehow, and it wasn't clear if that was good or not.

They hadn't passed a single word since Quinlan had retrieved her bag for her - and Aubree was thankful for the silence. She had a million questions that needed answers - but as she trudged over to the car, none of them mattered. What was the point in saving the whole fucking island if her sister wasn't there any more?

Quinlan opened the door for her, standing silently and watching with unblinking white eyes as she climbed inside. She liked to think maybe he was finally feeling sympathy for her - but it was just to get her moving.

It was dark inside as the door closed; so dark she could barely see her own hands in front of her. It wasn't until a dark, inky shape shifted in the driver's seat that her gaze snapped up - right into the glowing red eyes of a hooded _strigoi._


	6. Chapter 6

Aubree's hand flew to the door, scrabbling to pull it open, but her hands refused to cooperate. Her elbow struck the door and a hiss escaped her lips as her arm cramped from the shot of pain.

Then the front passenger door opened and weak yellow light streaked in from the street lights outside. Quinlan turned to her, and for a brief moment that odd look of _concern_ clouded his stern features. "He won't hurt you; he's with me."

Aubree paused with her hand still clutched around the door handle. Wide green eyes flickered from one _strigoi_ to the next, mulling over her options. With a sinking feeling in her chest she came to the realisation that her options equalled _none._ With a sigh of defeat she collapsed back into her seat, eyeing the newcomer warily.

"Are you sure she's the right one?" the _strigoi_ asked. His voice echoed, eerily reminiscent of that one _strigoi_ she had seen earlier. How did only some of them know how to talk? Another question joined the uncountable others.

Quinlan huffed, glancing back. "No; but she's here and she's convenient, so it will do."

"I can _hear,_ you know, _"_ Aubree muttered - but there wasn't a drop of fight in her. 

Quinlan glanced back, expression obscured by the inky darkness - and while he looked, for a moment, as if he was going to reach out and comfort her, in the end he simply shrugged and said, "we will explain everything more thoroughly once we reach our destination."

Aubree half expected them to blindfold her, like she was living in some cheesy action movie - after all, wasn't her life already past that point? - but instead the car roared to life without another word. It was as if they had forgotten she was even there, except for the way Quinlan watched her from the rear view mirror.

Aubree turned away from the icy stare, instead gazing out of the window, watching as buildings flew by. The roads were empty, streets abandoned, and there wasn't a single soul outside. It was like a ghost town. _Worse._ At least ghosts couldn't hurt people.

They breezed through silent streets, minutes ticked on, and Aubree found her gaze wandering to Quinlan. Sitting side by side with another _strigoi,_ it became all the more obvious he wasn't like the rest. His eyes, stark white with big, dark pupils looked so completely different to the empty blackness of the one driving. 

_That's what Dawn would have turned into,_ her mind told her, _soulless black eyes and a pale, twisted face._

Shivering, she turned back to glare out of the window. Her reflection glowered back with dark, hollow eyes. 

The minutes continued to drone on, stretching endlessly until she lost track of time altogether. It could have been ten minutes, thirty, an hour - although if it had been much longer they'd be at the other end of the island. Aubree blinked as the door swung open - when had they _stopped? -_ and a dark eyed silhouette swallowed up her view of the outside.

"Get out," the _strigoi_ demanded, "we're here."

Aubree bit back the sarcastic remark lingering on her tongue, exhaustion preventing her from even parting her lips. Instead she obliged, climbing awkwardly from the car - only to have her suitcase thrust at her. Stumbling, she gazed after the _strigoi_ as he marched off, ditching Aubree and his car without a word. 

At least Quinlan had _manners._ Sort of.

"That's Cas," Quinlan huffed, "he's... an acquired taste."

"I don't care about that," Aubree murmured, "I just want to know what's going on. You haven't explained shit."

White eyes flickered downward. Above them clouds darkened and the first _pitter patter_ of rain began to fall. Fat droplets decorated the ground, but Quinlan didn't notice. "It can wait for tomorrow. Humans are fragile, and your sister-"

Aubree's eyes shot up and she _whirled,_ ginger hair flying. "Don't talk about her. Don't even _mention her,_ " she snapped. Heat rose in her chest as her lips curled, fists clenching around the metal handle of her suitcase. "Just take me wherever the hell it is we're going, _please."_

Silence. Shadows clung to Quinlan, face dark and still. Did he care about _anything?_ Did he feel anything at all, _ever,_ or was he just some emotionless husk? God she wanted to _punch_ him, just to wipe that look of his face. Just so he might experience a _fraction_ of what she felt-

"I'm sorry."

Just like that, every last thought evaporated. An apology. From _him?_

"I know what it's like for loved ones to die at the hands of _strigoi._ The Master has killed everyone I have ever loved, but this time I _will_ stop him."

The soft patter of rain had begun to soak through her hoodie, patches of the dark fabric clinging to her small body. She blinked through strands of damp hair, lips pursed as she mulled over his words. Her lips parted; perhaps to ask about the Master, or about Cas, or any of the other hundreds of questions whirling through her brain. Instead she blurted, "you've been in love?"

His expression darkened, eyes narrowing, and Aubree's stomach lurched. It was the wrong question to ask and his glare sent chills down her - she realised for the first time the terrifying potential of his anger.

"Are you going to stay out here in the damn rain forever?"

Aubree flinched and the squeak that burst from her lips was downright _embarrassing -_ but then she caught sight of Cas in her peripheral and relaxed. _Relaxed!_ Around _strigoi!_

Quinlan's thin fingers dug into her shoulder as he towed her forward, practically shoving her ahead of him. Her legs tangled and she threatened to fall - and maybe would have if the solid suitcase by her side hadn't caught her. A protest rose to her lips but she kept quiet, eyes darting up.

At least Quinlan had returned to his usual stoic self. She had _wanted_ to see him show some kind of emotion - but as Quinlan ferried her toward a dark building, Aubree realised the possibility that delving into that wouldn't end well.

From the outside the building looked abandoned; dark and gloomy in the night, windows boarded. The inside wasn't much better; filthy carpets and cracked walls. It certainly wasn't the mysterious vampire lair Aubree had expected - or hoped for. Maybe she needed to lay off on the movie nights with Lee - although she realised, heart sinking, she might never get another chance anyway.

"You live in an abandoned apartment building?"

"Under renovation, but it suits our needs."

"What about the builders?" Aubree questioned. 

"We need to drink, too."

She watched as Quinlan marched down the hall, uneasiness settling deep in her gut. It was as if the whole ordeal was finally setting in as she heaved in a massive breath. He just walked off, expecting her to follow without complaint. He just dropped that fucking _bombshell_ on her, talking about drinking and turning - or, or _killing them -_ as if he was talking about eating steak for dinner. Her stomach rolled, threatening to empty what little she had eaten since breakfast-

"Come this way," Quinlan called across the pitch black hall, "and I will explain everything."

Delving into the lonely building with only Quinlan for company struck her as a terrible, _awful_ idea - but what choice did she have? Heaving in one shaking breath, Aubree grabbed her suitcase with clammy hands and followed.

* * *

As they moved through winding hallways, passing closed door after closed door, Aubree discovered the complex was more like a vampire's lair than she expected. It was like a damn _labyrinth,_ half-finished halls twisting and winding. Joiner's tools and dried buckets of paint littered the halls; the ghosts of the people that had once roamed the halls. Now nothing remained of those workers except for a handful of tools.

Quinlan had abandoned her outside one of the working flats on the third floor. Inside was empty, the previous owners long gone before the renovations started. Aubree unpacked and changed into dry clothes on autopilot, paying no more attention to her hands or clothes than she did to anything else around her. 

Five minutes later she wandered through the cold, empty hall. Searching and finding nothing.

"Lost?"

Aubree shrieked and spun so fiercely that still damp hair slapped her in the face. 

"You're pathetic," Cas sighed, like just being around her drained his will to live. "I'll never know why Quinlan picked you."

"I'm convenient, remember?" Aubree huffed. Under his dark, scrutinising gaze she felt like a science project - something interesting and amusing, but ultimately disposable. Shivering, Aubree shoved her hands deep in her pockets. "Can you just show me to Quinlan?"

"Whatever."

They walked in silence through the halls. It was so damn _dark_ and as far as she knew _strigoi_ weren't in danger from light bulbs. Maybe it was just their aesthetic. The thought of Quinlan lurking in the dark because of some misguided need to be _cool_ almost made her laugh. Almost.

Cas pulled to a halt beside a door just like any other - a rusted number plate hung above, _35._ Cas knocked and waited, hands clasped by his side. He was even more stilted than Quinlan - if that was even _possible -_ and it left Aubree wondering if he wanted to be there at all.

The door jolted open with the low creak of grinding hinges and Aubree winced. Instead of Quinlan a woman stood in the doorway. Her round face and curve-hugging turtleneck might have been attractive if not for the hollow cheeks and dark crimson eyes. Another _strigoi._ She stepped aside, eyes narrowing. "Aubree, I assume." Her accent was thick and rich. African, perhaps. Egyptian? "Quinlan's inside. You can call me Zivah."

Aubree edged inside, although Zivah didn't give her much space to squeeze past. She watched Aubree like a hawk, hovering over her shoulder as blue eyes sought out Quinlan.

He perched on a rickety wooden chair by the kitchenette, using the bar top as a makeshift desk. With his hood and coat gone, the sweep of his broad shoulders was obvious, as was the elegant curves of the crimson markings dancing across his neck. It was beautiful, really, the way the bright crimson contrasted with his pale white skin. It was ornate, even-

"Aubree. Please, sit down."

Aubree blinked. It took too long to realise Quinlan had spoken - and when she _did_ realise, her cheeks flushed almost as dark as the intricate pattern across his throat. "Right, yeah." This flat wasn't in much better condition than the one Aubree had claimed - but it had proper sofas at least, and a stained coffee table littered with notebooks and notes on... well, she could only assume the _strigoi_ outbreak. Perching on the nearest seat - which Zivah also settled into, black eyes never leaving her. Aubree suppressed a shiver as her unblinking gaze stared, judging - but turned to Quinlan and asked, "am I finally going to know what the _hell_ is going on?"

Across the room, arms folded sternly across his chest, Cass huffed. "We're not _obliged_ to tell you anything."

"If you want me to fucking _work_ with you, then yeah I think you are," Aubree snapped. She just wanted to go to bed, even if it was in a shitty bed in a shitty rundown flat, and curl up into a ball and forget what was quite possibly the worst day of her life. Yet here she was, dealing with _them._

" _Cas,_ " Zivah hushed - and although her voice was stern Aubree thought she caught a smile. Like a mother amused by her child's antics. "Let Quinlan speak."

Quinlan turned to her, and not for the first time Aubree was struck by how _bright_ his eyes were. Even with white-pale skin, those eyes seemed to glow. "You already know that we are here to stop the _strigoi._ This outbreak began only a week ago, if that. It spreads fast, but we aren't too late."

 _Outbreak._ He spoke as if it was a plague - yet he was one of them. Then again, it was impossible to compare him - or anyone in this room - to the rabid monsters that attacked the hospital. Would Dawn have turned out like them, still _people_ despite it all. No, Aubree knew that was impossible. These three were... _different._ Different for reasons she didn't understand. Swallowing, she tried not to think about it. Especially not about _Dawn._

"You said someone was behind this. One person," Aubree muttered. Restless hands fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie. The sleeves were already beginning to come undone, threads pulling.

"Yes," Quinlan confirmed. "The Master. He is one of seven original _strigoi -_ the Ancients, we call them. He has been starting outbreaks for thousands of years, far longer than you can comprehend. The other Ancients have been unable to stop him." He cast Cas a glare then, a pointed look that told of an unmentioned disagreement. "It is all part of a much bigger plan. A plan to... well, that is irrelevant. I - _we -_ will not let it get that far."

"Quinlan has been chasing the Master for a long time," Zivah clarified. Her features never moved, never softened - but her voice was caramel smooth. Almost gentle. "We haven't been around nearly as long, but our goal is the same."

"Speak for yourself," Cas complained, "I'm only here so the Ancients can keep an eye on _him._ " He jabbed one long, slender finger at Quinlan.

Aubree's wild gaze flickered from one to the other as she shifted on the sofa. "You were turned by the Ancients?" She had barely even a basic grasp on who or what they were - but with so many _strigoi_ running around she hadn't expected them to be turned by one of the originals.

"Being turned is an _honour,_ " Cas replied coldly, "and the Master is damn disrespectful for turning people left and right."

 _What about the people he's turned,"_ Aubree wanted to snap, _"don't you care_ _about the people who's lives have been ruined?_ Small fists clenched around the excess fabric of her hoodie - and even when her knuckles began to ache she couldn't stop. They turned stark white against the dark cotton.

For a moment Quinlan's pale eyes met hers - and something almost akin to concern flashed across his angular features. Just like last time it was so brief she might have imagined it. But then he stood, leaving behind the papers scattered across the kitchenette, and said, "we should pick this back up in the morning. For now, I believe Aubree here should rest."

"Rest? That's just wasting time, _"_ Cas huffed - and his deep set eyes fixed on Aubree, making her shiver. It was impossible to miss the menace behind his gaze as he let those dark eyes sweep over her. Like he was sizing her up.

It made the need not to disappoint that much stronger.

"You're going to have to adopt nocturnal habits in the next few days," Zivah said, "but tonight, make sure you rest."

Aubree wasn't convinced that was even an option - not with the questions plaguing her brain, and not with Dawn's pale, gaunt face swallowing her vision every time she allowed herself to think. Yet the moment she was alone, the moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to y'all that wanted Sun Hunters, it's OCs only for now! We don't get a lot of named strigs other than Quin, Vaun & a handful of others, so I thought it might be fun to do something new. I might give Vaun a little cameo later on bc he's one of my fave characters 😍😍
> 
> I also could have gone into more depth with Quin's explanation, but we already know it all, so I didn't want to drag it out.


	7. Chapter 7

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Bleary eyes blinked open, brows furrowed as the knocking continued. Even in her sleep-fogged haze Aubree knew something wasn't right. She fumbled for her phone, clumsy hands scrabbling across the pitted wood of her ancient bedside table - only to smack the damn thing and sent it skittering under her bed. 

Whoever it was knocked again, insistent.

"I'll be right there!" Aubree hollered as she stumbled blearily to her feet. They probably couldn't even here her - but it wasn't even _daylight_ outside so they'd just have to wait. Grabbing a hoodie from the peg on the door, Aubree stumbled - barefoot and dazed - into the living room.

No sooner had she unlocked the door when Dawn flew in, a mass of unconstrained energy and bright auburn hair.

Aubree simply blinked, brows quirked in question. "Dawn; what the __hell__ are you doing here at - what time is it, anyway?"

"Oh. Uh... three-thirty?" Dawn checked her watch, green eyes flickering downward. It was then that Aubree realised how _exhausted_ Dawn looked. Despite her energy she had dark, heavy circles beneath her eyes. She was pale, too. Sickly, even.

"Dawn, are you feeling all right? No offence but you look... well, awful." Despite Dawn's protests Aubree reached up, delicate fingers brushing across her forehead. She was _burning,_ so hot that Aubree's chest skipped and she snapped her hand back with a gasp. "You need a doctor."

She received a noncommittal shrug, a quirked brow that said _don't try to mother me._ But instead of her characteristic pout and quirky comeback, Dawn simply collapsed onto Aubree's couch with a low groan. "Yeah, I feel like shit. Have done all week - remember how I told you I got accosted by some drunk guy?"

Aubree didn't, but she hummed an affirmative anyway as she moved to the kitchen. She couldn't shake the feeling that something as _wrong,_ but with a snort of laughter at her own paranoia she shoved it to the back of her mind. "Does this have anything to do with why you're at my house so early?"

"Yeah," Dawn called. Was Aubree imagining things, or did her voice sound weird? "I know it's stupid to walk home at three in the morning but I was out with the girls - and _another_ dude just went for me! Didn't try to take my stuff or anything. He just... lunged at me. I __swear__ he was crazy."

Honestly, Aubree doubted the credibility of that story. There was a lull in the conversation as she reached into the top cupboard for her favourite mugs - two matching striped ones bigger than her head - and waited for the water to boil. The kettle rattled on the kitchen counter, steam hissing in slow bursts. 

When she turned to grab the sugar from adjacent cupboard, something flashed in the corner of her vision. She jumped back, heart racing - but it was only Dawn lingering by the kitchen door. "Thanks Dawn. Try making some noise when you walk." Rolling her eyes, Aubree padded across the kitchen.

They way Dawn's eyes followed her made her stomach crawl. They looked darker than usual - almost black despite being a lovely grey-green. It was silly - this was her __sister -__ but she couldn't help the suppressed shiver that rose up. "You sure you're all right? Stay here tonight, I can drive you to the hospital tomorrow if you need-"

The low hiss of the kettle grated against her ears - but when she turned back to Dawn with the sugar tin in hand, she was hit with the realisation that the kettle had boiled several minutes ago. _Dawn_ was the one hissing, low and dangerous in her throat. Something squirmed behind her parted lips.

"Now you're just being creepy," she snapped - but it didn't hide the waver in her voice. Setting the sugar down, Aubree stepped back. "Are you messing with me?"

Dawn's head tilted, birdlike, as she regarded Aubree with empty, bottomless eyes. She blinked - but her eyelids were white, meeting vertically over her black eyes. Like a lizard.

Aubree's pulse was racing then, throat constricting and unable to form words. Something was wrong, so _damn wrong_ and she didn't know what. Dawn advanced, one slow step at a time; like a wild animal stalking its prey. Aubree stumbled back and her legs caved. She threw an arm out with a yelp - only for her hand to close over something cool and metallic. 

An antique silver knife?

Somehow, Aubree knew what she had to do. Slender hands shook as she gripped the knife. She inched forward on shaking legs, panic rising-

Then Dawn leapt forward with a hissing shriek; the two clattered to the ground in a mess of slender limbs and bright orange hair. Aubree's head hit the floor and her vision swam.

Then something long and _sticky_ surged from between Dawn's greying lips and everything went blank.

* * *

A choking gasp ripped from Aubree's throat as she shot up in bed, wide eyes darting about the darkened room as she threw back the covers. Sweat clung to her pajamas - which were really just running shorts and a hoodie, one of the few things she had found crammed into her suitcase - but she shivered as the cold air hit her bare legs.

The bedroom, unfamiliar and swimming with darkness, was empty. The suitcase lay where she had abandoned it the night before, shoes and mismatched clothes scattered on the floor. The dusty mirror above the dresser flickered as Aubree shifted - but it revealed only her own knotted hair and tired eyes staring back through the murk.

Shit, she was a mess. Heaving in another ragged breath she tossed back the bedsheets, nose crinkling at the smell of stale sweat. The chill from the open window seeped into her skin and clung to the back of her neck, causing another shiver as she padded into the kitchen come living room. 

Coffee wasn't going to solve her problems, but it was about the only thing in the kitchen that was still consumable. She wasn't sleeping any time soon - not with Dawn's pasty, hollow face burned into the back of her mind - so she might as well drink something to keep her alert. 

The first sip of the steaming drink had barely passed her lips before an impatient knock made her jump, spilling half the cup down her hoodie and onto the hardwood floor. A screech left her lips as she flinched back - only to frown as Cas' distinctive Norwegian accent called through the locked door. 

"It's four in the morning," Aubree complained, scrubbing at her blurry eyes as she wrenched open the door. "What do you want?"

Admittedly she hadn't meant to sound like such an __ass -__ but to her surprise Cas had no comeback for her. Not even a half-hearted complaint about how __awful__ humans were. He simply quirked a brow, eerie black eyes unblinking as he regarded her silently.

Aubree simply didn't have the energy to be annoyed. She just wanted to _sleep _-__ and since that was out, she would have happily settled for curling up in bed and stewing in her own misery. Hopping from foot to foot like an anxious bird, she asked, "can I help you?"

"I heard a noise," he elaborated - barely. He was an impassive as always - and Aubree had to wonder if that was a common thing among these sentient _strigoi_ __-__ but his pointed ears twitched irritably as he continued, "thought I should check on you. Wouldn't want to lose our new hunter on the first day."

"I'm fine," Aubree muttered. Green eyes flickered to the ground under his unwavering stare - only to remember the now half mug of coffee still clutched in her hands. They were beginning to turn red from the heat, but she didn't feel a thing. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"You're awake; we might as well start your training." Without another word he pivoted, stopping only to toss an expectant look over his shoulder. He didn't even squint even though Aubree struggled to see anything except his dim silhouette and those staring red-black eyes.

Looking down at herself, Aubree mused that nobody really _cared_ what she wore. Makeshift pyjamas, proper sports gear or their whole _strigoi_ hunting getup - did it matter? Besides, Dawn had bought her this hoodie for her years ago, and even though the colour had faded and the once bright __Marvel__ logo was almost non-existent, the thought of taking it off made her stomach squirm.

"Are you _coming?"_

Aubree glanced up, scrubbing underneath her eyes - when had she started crying? - and shrugged. "Sure."

By the time she had grabbed a pair of Converse and shuffled into the hall, he was already half way down the corridor. For the first time since meeting him, she actually __wanted__ to see Quinlan; even if it was just so she didn't have to suffer __Cas.__

Although she expected Cas to take her back to the cramped flat - which was presumably their meeting room - Cas continued down the hall, winding down the dark corridors and marching past the room without a second glance. Silently trailing behind him, Aubree forced down the urge to ask. Even so, her insides twisted. _It's fine,_ she reminded herself, _they're training you, not murdering you._

It wasn't until he led her to an ancient elevator and pressed the basement level that Aubree __really__ started to feel sick. The doors slid closed and what little light was available through the boarded windows and builder's tarp vanished. Alone in the cramped, hot space with Cas' dark eyes staring her down, Aubree began to sweat; and not from claustrophobia.

"So, uh, where are we going?" she questioned, hating how her voice wobbled. She really __was__ pathetic - and from his curled lips it was obvious he felt the same.

"Basement," was all she got in reply.

"Right." Tugging at the neck of her thick hoodie, Aubree avoided his dark gaze. The numbers ticked down slowly - __too__ slowly, they had only been on the third floor - and Cas' glare burrowed under her skin. By the time the doors shuddered open Aubree all but __flew__ out of the tiny space - and smacked right into a hard, marbled chest. 

White eyes gazed down at her, brows raised and curious, and if it wasn't for the fact that Quinlan _never_ smiled she would have thought the curve of his lips was exactly that. "You're awake, I see."

Cheeks flushing, she only managed a nod. 

Behind them, Zivah rolled her dark eyes. How those same eyes managed to look so _creepy_ when it was Cas that stared at her, she didn't know. The inky blackness of Zivah's gaze was hardly warm, but as she rested a hand on Aubree's slim shoulder there was something almost _motherly_ about the touch.

With the eyes of three _strigoi_ fixed on her, it took every ounce of strength for Aubree not to burrow herself away in a corner somewhere. "So uh, why am I here? In the __basement?"__

"Training," Quinlan replied. The ever present sword was anchored to his back - _the sword he used to kill Dawn,_ Aubree thought - and was geared up in that weird hooded coat. Underneath he wore layers of thick, protective clothing. It was certainly the kind of getup that suited the aesthetic of vampire-hunting. 

"We need your help taking out the _strigoi,_ " Zivah elaborated, full lips quirking in an almost-smile, "so that's what we're going to have you do."

Aubree blinked once. Twice. A third time. Her lips parted, ready to question their _sanity_ but all that tumbled from her open mouth was a dumbfounded, "huh?"

Something almost akin to amusement sparkled in Quinlan's pale eyes. Had they always been so... beautiful? Perhaps it was just because, for once, the bare luminescent bulbs provided proper lighting. "We won't have you kill on the first day. You haven't exactly been eager to do so before, even in self defence."

"If training this weak little kid is going to take forever, count me out," Cas grumbled. He had settled himself by a cluster of chairs in the corner - it seemed everything else had been cleared from the basement. Other than two locked doors by the far wall - most likely for storage - and a boiler room marked with peeling stickers, there wasn't much else in the vast open space.

"Don't mind him," Zivah assured with a pointed glare, "Cas isn't as bad as he seems." The last part was a whisper, meant only for Aubree. It did nothing to reassure her nerves. Or her uneasy stomach.

Across the basement, hidden behind one of the storage doors, came a low, pitiful whine. Then the door rattled, like something was clawing at the handle, twisting and turning in a poor attempt to escape.

Despite the fact she was all the way across the room Aubree skittered back, eyes darting from Quinlan's blank face to the source of the noise. "What's that?"

"We keep _strigoi_ in the storage rooms. For training, of course."

"You just lock them up like __animals?__ " Aubree gaped at him, eyes wide. A chill coursed through her, one that wasn't caused by the drafty basement. She thought of Dawn, and how she would have felt if one of her loved ones, _strigoi_ or no, had been locked up like that. _No,_ she reminded herself sharply, _you can't bring Dawn back and there are bigger issues here._

It didn't leave her feeling any less nauseous. 

When no one else made another move to speak - and in fact Zivah and Cas only cast each other long suffering looks - Aubree heaved out a heavy sigh and said, "let's do this." 

"We'll start you off easy," Quinlan replied, "do you have the silver knife?"

Guilt settled heavily in Aubree's stomach. To avoid looking at him she dipped her head low. "I left it upstairs," she answered with a huff. In her defence, Cas hadn't given her much time to think when he shot off down the hall without her. 

"Then we'll have to make do. You're lucky we have other weapons." Quinlan rolled his eyes, but otherwise there was no indication he particularly cared. She was still getting used to this, his ability to remain calm and.. well, emotionless no matter what. She had thought all of his kind were like that - but since meeting Cas and Zivah she was forced to come to the conclusion that it was just _him._

"So what do you want me to do?"

Quinlan and Zivah shared a glance, dark eyes meeting stark white. "A quick test of your overall fitness. To gauge your potential."

"And if I'm not good enough?"

Quinlan's eyes flickered to meet hers and Aubree shivered. "Let's hope that isn't an issue."

Nose wrinkling, Aubree couldn't force a reply. It didn't take a genius to understand what __that__ meant. But, as much as she wished it wasn't true, there was no avoiding it any longer. She was here, with them, and there was no getting out of this. All she could do was go along with it and hope she didn't disappoint.

"Fine," she snapped, "then let's get this over with." 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a Hot Minute since I updated, sorry folks! I've been busy with commissions and D&D stuff, so this sort of got thrown on the backburner for a bit. Anyway, here's part 8. Enjoy!

Even with the drafty chill of the basement against her bare legs, Aubree felt too hot under Quinlan's attentive gaze. It was _stifling,_ even as she shivered. "So what are we doing?" she questioned, shoving down the urge to shift awkwardly. 

Reaching into the depths of his black coat, he produced a knife. Unlike the one Aubree had left back in her makeshift apartment this one was simple, almost _boring._ The stubby silver hilt was plain, and the wooden hilt rustic. Apparently he had gained himself _quite_ the collection over the years. With one pale hand, Quinlan offered it to her. "All you have to do," he said, "is land a hit on me."

Aubree gaped. Even as she reached out for the knife she floundered, and her hand, now clasped around the hilt, dropped to her side. "You're a vampire - _strigoi -_ how am I supposed to do that?"

"That's what you have to find out," Quinlan replied simply. He quirked a hairless brow, and even in the dark shadows of the basement his smirk was obvious. _Asshole._

"What do-"

The air around them shimmered, blurred - and then Quinlan was gone. Aubree spun, a gasp leaving her lips - only to see his silhouette at the other side of the basement. He leaned casually against the wall as if he hadn't just traversed twenty feet in the space of a millisecond.

The door beside him rattled, the wild _strigoi_ growled, but Aubree was the only one to flinch. It was that moment that the realisation hit her - this was _impossible._

In a blink Quinlan was gone again, leaving nothing behind but a stir in the stale air. There was a flash of his dark coat from behind but Aubree had no time to turn; within moments his arms were around her, painfully tight and surprisingly muscular beneath the layers of clothing - but this was _not_ the time to notice that. At all. His grip tightened and forced the air from her lungs - and then something cold pressed to the base of her throat. "Are you even _trying?_ " he demanded in a low voice.

"It isn't _my_ fault you're super strong. I'm only human." Aubree wriggled in his grasp but even her own thick, athletic build was no match for his superhuman strength. It was as easy to him as restraining a child. Or a poodle. The blade pressed firmer and a sharp heat swept across her throat - her chest shuddered, lips parting in a silent gasp as the tiniest drop of blood splashed onto her hoodie.

"If you're to be of any use to us," Quinlan whispered against her ear, "you'll need to do better than this. If I can capture you in less than a second, what chance do you have?" Despite the way he crushed her to him, despite the fact he could have killed her with one swipe of his wrist, Quinlan's voice was... soft. His condescending tone vanished and Aubree swore she heard _concern_ in the gentleness of his raspy declaration. 

Although his skin was ashy pale, Quinlan wasn't cold. In fact he was _hot,_ as if he was running a fever. With her back flush against his torso she was beginning to sweat, and the knife against her throat only made it worse. Yet it wasn't _fear_ that drummed through her veins - in fact her roaring pulsed fluttered, hammering in her ears, but her eyes slipped closed as she let out an unsteady sigh.

Then the knife retreated, and with it so did Quinlan. His overbearing warmth peeled back and left her shivering, blinking as reality snapped back into place. The moment was gone - but not the memory of it. Why had that felt so _good?_ Cheeks burning brighter than her hair, Aubree only hoped he hadn't heard her breathy little exhale. 

"Try again."

Aubree stared, incredulous, and the that remains of - well, _whatever_ she had felt - dissipated into the stale air. "Seriously. You can move faster than my eyes can even _track_ and you expect me to keep up?" She was _done_ with this; and one moment of weakness didn't change the burning indignation that swelled in her chest. 

"I told you she wasn't the one," Cas called from across the basement. Although he hadn't moved from his spot against the wall his voice echoed, bounced from one wall to another and rattling in her ears. "We wouldn't even _be_ in this situation if the Ancients-"

" _They_ are not to be involved," Quinlan snapped. The pallid white glare silenced Cas in an instant - and even he couldn't hold Quinlan's gaze for more than a second. Satisfied, Quinlan turned back to Aubree - and she was silently hopeful he _never_ had to turn a glare like that on _her._ His voice, raspy as it was, remained purposefully cool as he said, "we try again. This time, you will have a head start."

Aubree didn't _want_ to try again. She wanted to ask him about these Ancients, get some real information for once instead of being left in the dark about it all. After everything she deserved _that,_ at least; but she thought of the way Quinlan's pale face twisted and the way Cas bowed in defeat, and kept her mouth closed.

Without another word he tucked his knife in one of the hidden pockets of his coat. A silent nod was his only cue to begin - this time he didn't disappear into a dark blur but simply widened his stance, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't see her as any more of a threat than she might be threatened by a wasp. Screw that, she wasn't even a _wasp_ to him - at least they could sting.

Huffing out a breath, Aubree clutched her plain silver knife tighter. Eyes darted from Quinlan to Cas - who watched them idly, as if they were no more interesting than daytime television - and then to Zivah, who stood silently all this time. Neither of them were in the mood to be supportive, apparently. In fact they didn't even seem convinced she was capable.

Probably a fair judgement, if she was honest.

When her eyes slinked back to Quinlan she sucked in a breath, the cold stinging her lungs. "I'm ready," she told him - and then in one sudden move, Aubree rushed him.

She was the fastest on her old Derby team, the only one able to weave harmlessly between the competing team each time without fail. She darted for him, slender legs working overtime, and reached where he had been in record time - but for all her speed she was still human, and although swift by normal standards he still left her in the dust. Aubree skidded to a stop, but he was already gone.

Instead of being pinned to the wall like Aubree had intended, Quinlan stood in the centre of the room, head tilted toward her with a smirk on his face. He stood below one of the dusty, bare bulbs that provided yellowish light - and this time there was no darkness to conceal his face. Aubree had her first _true_ look at the man beneath the hood and it stole the breath from her lungs. He was pale, yes, unnaturally so - but there were no blue veins beneath his skin, not so much as a trace of colour. He was completely bloodless. 

For all of his English accent and human mannerisms, he really was no different to the creatures he wanted to kill. 

Aubree blinked - and then Quinlan vanished. It tore her from her thoughts with an unwilling gasp, one that stuck in her throat as she spun, eyes searching the dimness for his silhouette - only for a pale hand to catch her by the wrist. A solid mass smacked her in the stomach and then she tumbled to the ground. Hands pinned her wrists to the grimy floor as she squirmed to break free.

Quinlan loomed above her, hooded face defined by the yellowing light above them. "Another fail," he chided, but he didn't look angry. In fact the tiny quirk of his lips revealed something _else._

"I didn't land a hit, though," Aubree grumbled. With her back pressed against the cold floor, she shifted uncomfortably. At least the heat seeping from Quinlan's body kept her warm. 

"No," he admitted, "but it is still progress. A stark difference from the cowering woman I met only a few nights ago."

A smile crept its way across Aubree's parted lips. "Oh, a _compliment._ I'm honoured." True enough, she _was._ Warmth bloomed in her chest - warmth that wasn't from the stifling heat emanating from Quinlan as his broad body eclipsed hers. Although, with his body flush against hers, strong hands clenched around her slender wrists... well, she was enjoying the view.

When Quinlan released her wrists his absence left her cold - but his legs shifted _just so_ against hers and with a jolt she realised he had been straddling her. He stood without a word, darting away, but his thigh pressed into hers at the last moment. The touch was brief, fleeting, but Aubree found herself wishing for his warm bulk to stay just a second longer...

Wait, where had _that_ come from?

Scrambling to her feet, Aubree tried to hide the bright flush spreading across he cheeks. Thick strands of copper hair obscured her features as she let her gaze flicker up to Quinlan and shoved her hands deep inside the pockets of her hoodie. "So you're not going to off me for being incompetent?" she teased - but it fell flat even to her own ears. 

His eyes, as piercing and inscrutable as always, fixed on her. Aubree imagined, just for a moment, that those bright eyes meandered across her body just a moment too long, perhaps fixing on her bare legs - but that was ridiculous. "You have potential," Quinlan admitted, "although no more so than any other human here. It was simply _circumstance_ that brought you to us."

"Right." Aubree bit down on the inside of her lip, eyes downcast. Heaviness settled in her chest. Disappointment. But disappointment over _what?_ Shifting uncomfortably, she watched as Quinlan strode across the cavernous basement, already gesturing to Cas as if she was forgotten. What now?

They spoke in hushed whispers, perfectly audible to the enhanced ears of a _strigoi_ but not to Aubree. Their muttering was interrupted only by the low, rumbling clicks from concealed stingers. Apparently Cas only considered to subdue it when he thought a human might hear. Oddly, Quinlan didn't click at all.

"Don't take it to heart."

Aubree squeaked at the new voice, silver knife poised and ready to stab - only to see Zivah, arms folded and smirking, behind her. "Take what to heart?" Aubree muttered, "that my whole life has gone to shit in less than a week?"

Zivah chuckled; a low, warm sound that instantly made Aubree's shoulders relax. "It's a lot, I know, but this _is_ for a good cause. Quinlan isn't the warmest person in the world, but he's an excellent teacher."

No, Quinlan certainly wasn't warm - except for that moment as pinned her to the cold ground, thighs brushing hers. Clearing her throat, Aubree shoved the knife in her pocket and folded slender arms across her chest. She was _not_ thinking about Quinlan; now or ever. "So," Aubree started, just to have something - _anything -_ else to think about, "Quinlan trained you?"

Thin lips pursed, and the warmth from Zivah's bottomless eyes hardened. "He did, but that was a long time ago. Before he abandoned the Ancients."

"But you're here," Aubree pointed out - but Zivah's dark scowl was enough for her to skitter back with a muttered apology. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

Zivah's rattling huff was reminder enough that for all these _strigoi_ were intelligent - and in Zivah's case, somewhat sociable - they were perfectly capable of executing her in a second if the feeling took them. It lasted only for a second, however, and soon enough soft smile replaced that twisting grimace. "I've lived a long time," she admitted, "though not nearly as long as Quinlan. You're in good hands."

It didn't feel like it - not with Quinlan breathing down her neck or with Cas' thinly veiled threats around every corner. Not with her only sister gone and the island diving into an all out _apocalypse._ But Aubree forced a weak smile and a nod, "he seems like a good guy," she finally conceded.

"He is," Zivah replied with a nod. 

Aubree wasn't entirely sure how true her statement was, or how much she even _believed_ it - but she shoved the doubts away as quickly as they formed, burying them deep. Burying the doubts, yes, but also that strange warmth in her chest that rose when she let his name drift across her lips.


	9. Chapter 9

After that initial training the days began to blur, one into the next and Aubree hardly noticed. She was barely given time to sleep, and with the windows all boarded up she sometimes wondered if she was even sleeping at the right hours at all. At some point the tiny fridge in what she now deemed _her_ apartment had been stocked, although when and how remained a mystery. There was the sneaking suspicion it was Zivah, mothering her from the sidelines.

Even if her training wasn't going as planned, at least she was making progress with the mysterious _strigoi._ Well, making progress with Zivah, whom she had quickly discovered was sweet despite her mysterious nature. Cas on the other hand was as much trouble as ever. Then there was Quinlan. Other than her daily training, she hardly saw him at all. Aubree might have thought he was avoiding her, except that didn't seem like his style. Still, she was surprised to find herself almost _missing_ his calm and once consistent presence.

Aubree lay sprawled across her bed as she thought about it. A sketchbook sat in front of her as she doodled aimlessly, barely paying attention to the sweeping strokes of her pen, looking at the work without really _seeing_ it. Her arms had begun to fall asleep a while ago, made worse by the awkward way she propped herself on her elbows - but this was a rare moment to herself, both something she craved and dreaded. Time to relax, but also time to _think._ And with that, there were several things her mind could decide to fixate on. 

Outside, muffled by layers of wooden board and blackout curtains, the wind howled. Something spindly battered against the window and echoed, ghostlike, throughout the silent room. 

Aubree flinched, lips pursed against the urge to screech like some kind of paranoid owl - and tossed her pen against the curtains. It dropped pathetically and bounced as it hit the bed. "Shit," she hissed, scrambling to grab it before it had the chance to leak into the bed sheets. The wind continued to barrage against the window but it was muted against the hiss of her own swearing.

When she rolled back over to grab her sketchbook, it was gone. Above her loomed a pale figure with piercing white eyes and a broad, lingering smirk. 

" _Quinlan?"_ Aubree shot up, almost tumbling from the bed. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"You never mentioned that you were an artist," he said in way of a reply. He held the sketchbook in one elegant hand, propped between wrist and elbow. His white eyes glittered as he flicked the page.

Aubree simply shrugged. "You never asked. I didn't think you were interested in my social life."

He simply hummed and continued to skim through her work. His eyes barely flickered across each page before moving on - until he reached near the end of the sketchbook. Thin hands hovered over the page - and for maybe the first time ever he was speechless.

"What is it?" Aubree huffed, reaching forward to pluck it from his hands. That infuriating smirk curved at his lips again but she ignored it, green eyes darting down to the page. Oh. _Oh._

The sketchbook was open to something she had drawn the day after she had arrived, not long after that first training session. A two page spread of _strigoi;_ Cas leaning against the basement wall, Zivah's soft smile, details of the locket she had noticed Cas always carried around his neck. Yet it was obvious none of those had caught his eyes - but the spread of Quinlan himself. It was so much more detailed than the messy sketches of Cas and Zivah, each line had a purpose. His eyes were softer than she had ever seen them in real life, his smile gentler. It was pure, self indulgent wish fulfilment.

And Quinlan _knew it._

Aubree hastily flipped the sketchbook closed and shoved it underneath her pillows. "I like still life, so what?" she snapped, but it held no real venom. "Anyway, what are you doing here?" She ignored the flush spreading across her pale cheeks, and prayed Quinlan was kind enough to do the same. 

He was. He didn't acknowledge her blunder except for a quiet click, not of his stinger but his teeth, and a roll of his eyes. Eyes that, up until very recently, had appeared creepy to her. Now, in the soft lighting of her bedroom, the glow of her lamp hitting his face _just so,_ he looked almost handsome.

"Aubree?"

Blinking, Aubree shifted her gaze upward. "Huh?" A moment later it clicked - he had _spoken,_ and she had been too busy daydreaming about those gorgeous eyes. No, she was _not_ going there. Ever. "Sorry, I spaced out," she admitted with a nervous laugh.

His eyes - which she was _definitely_ not thinking about, no - narrowed. "Training is in half an hour. Cas and I will meet you in the basement. May I suggest you change first."

Quirking a brow, Aubree parted her lips to ask - only to realise with a repressed gasp that she was, in fact, wearing only a tank top and her underwear. How could she have forgotten? "This is why you don't materialise in people's rooms like a fucking _ninja,_ " Aubree screeched - but in a blink he was already gone.

Well then. 

She sat there for a long moment simply staring through the open door - and then threw herself backward onto the lumpy mattress with a heavy groan. _Why_ was she like this? Dawn was always the best one to go to for dilemmas like this - or any dilemma, really. Dawn wasn't around anymore though, Aubree knew. She was on her own. A small huff escaped Aubree's lips as she stared at the dark ceiling through narrowed eyes. 

It was impossible to know how long she lay there stewing in her own thoughts, but by the time her eyes flickered to the watch on her narrow wrist it was already half-past eight. _Shit,_ she was going to be late for training. Aubree all but threw herself off the bed as she scrambled for a pair of leggings, shorts, _anything_ that actually managed to cover her ass. Finally she shoved on a pair of grey winter leggings and her beloved converse before sprinting out the door.

When she made it to the makeshift training area at eight thirty-six she was already panting, loose tangerine hair clinging to her forehead. "I made it in time, right?" she asked through heaving breaths.

"Six minutes late," Cas snapped. Across the basement a collection of chairs had been added, lined along the back wall with a chipped dining table between them and the expanse of open space. It looked like a judge's panel - and with the way Cas regarded her through narrowed eyes, slouched in the farthest chair, Aubree wouldn't have been surprised if it was just that.

"What's this all about?"

Quinlan materialised from the lingering shadows, long coat coiling around his ankles. Pale eyes landed on Aubree and a fleeting smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "We have decided that your training needs to step up a notch," he replied cooly. If not for that fleeting smirk, Aubree might have believed their earlier encounter had never happened. "I believe it's about time you went up against a _real_ enemy."

"And we won't be helping," Cas chimed, "you're on your own, kid."

Aubree blinked, eyes shifting from Quinlan to Cas, then back again. "Am I not good enough? I thought I was doing pretty well-"

"You've made great improvements," Quinlan answered, stinger clicking almost imperceptibly, "but the _strigoi_ roaming the streets aren't considerate enough to wait for you."

"The world's going to shit out there," Cas cut in, "if it was up to me, I'd say let it, but..." he trailed off with a shrug.

Heat bubbled up in Aubree's stomach, rising into her chest as she whirled on him. "Seriously? Don't be such a-"

Quinlan cleared his throat - and in a flash he was by her side, leaving behind only a slight breeze in the otherwise airless basement. A gloved hand on her shoulder, a warning whispered in her ear - it was all she needed to back off. Yet when she spun to face him there was no anger in his pale eyes.

Even in the dim room the brightness of his eyes was startling, perfect white against even whiter skin. He was _translucent,_ skin stretched across sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. Up close it was easier to hear the tiny clicks and rattles of the stinger deep within his throat - but oddly, the sound didn't strike that deep uneasiness it had before. Actually it was sort of _soothing?_

Then Quinlan let go and the feeling evaporated, left her cold. He turned toward the utility closets at the far end of the room, keys dangling from one long finger. "Today will be different," he spoke, "I trained you with a dagger, but today you have a choice of weapons."

Had he even noticed her flushed cheeks? The rapid hammering of her heartbeat, so close to him only seconds before? Maybe he knew and just chose to ignore it, or perhaps he was so out of touch with human emotion that he hadn't noticed anything at all. Disappointment settled in her chest - but _why?_ It wasn't as if she cared about him, not really. She was practically a prisoner here after all.

"Here, have a look and see if there's anything you like. All silver of course." Zivah's honey-like voice shattered through Aubree's thoughts. She settled on the edge of the table, where she had laid out an assortment of weapons - from simple daggers to swords to pistols, all lined out neatly for their viewing pleasure.

With one last lingering stare toward Quinlan - and no, she _definitely_ wasn't watching the way he sauntered across the basement - Aubree turned her focus to the selection of weapons. "Don't you have to have a license for firearms? We're in the UK..."

Cas snorted, rolling his eyes - but Zivah's dark gaze was sympathetic. " _Strigoi_ need to be taken out as efficiently as possible. They don't care about laws."

Her hand danced across an elegant silver longsword. It wasn't as impressive as Quinlan's weird bone sword, but the intricate designs carved along the hilt were beautiful in the dim light. Next to it sat another sword - or a dagger, perhaps. It's curved blade was completely foreign to her, as were the ornate carvings along the side of the blade.

"It's a khopesh," Zivah explained, "an old favourite of mine. Not that I'm old enough to have used them when they were popular." She lifted it, and although the blade looked odd and clunky to Aubree's eyes, Zivah held it like an expert. Long fingers curled around the hilt, clawed nails settling easily out of harms way against her palms.

"I think that's too advanced for _me,_ " Aubree admitted with a nervous laugh. The blade glinted in the dim light and she shifted away. Not that Zivah - or anyone else here - needed any blades to kill her. Ducking her head, Aubree reached for a broad silver sword at the end of the table. It weighed heavily in her hands - but it was oddly comfortable to hold despite its size. "What about this?"

"Roman, I think. Quinlan's the one to ask about those."

"How so?" Aubree mused, turning the blade over in her palm. It glittered, pristine despite being... well, a few thousand years old at least. 

Zivah's dark eyes blinked, shifting to Quinlan and then back again. He was so far away at the other end of the basement, but Zivah dropped her voice anyway as she replied, "I don't ask about his past, and he doesn't ask about mine; but I believe he's old enough to have seen the Roman empire itself."

Well _shit._ Aubree's eyes darted up, wide and disbelieving, but the denial died on her lips. Was it really _that_ unbelievable? The way he spoke, the way he acted, the distance he kept between himself and everyone else - even the _strigoi_ he worked with - all hinted at someone who has been alive for a long time. And this _Master,_ the one creating an epidemic just outside her door - had he Quinlan been hunting him for just as long? Swallowing, Aubree let her gaze drop to the floor. 

Aubree didn't know what to say - but there was no time to form a coherent thought anyway. Low groans emanated from the far side of the basement, not quite human but human _enough._ Aubree flinched, whirling to face the sound with the Roman sword still clutched in both hands. Even after a week of this, a week of fighting and hurting, she was as shaky as the first day she arrived-

Quinlan strode over, one hand held by his side - and the other clutching a rabid _strigoi._ It fought against him, twisted and turned, but Quinlan held a long metal rod with thick, unforgiving wire wound around the _strigoi_. It reminded her of the tools used by animal control, but this one was wrapped tight enough to cut deep into the _strigoi's neck._ If Quinlan cared about the _strigoi's_ discomfort he didn't show it, but Aubree winced.

"This will be your first true test," Quinlan spoke evenly despite the writhing animal just inches from his face. "If you can defeat this creature, then you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Aubree couldn't help but ask. She clutched the sword tighter, knuckles turning white.

Quinlan smirked. "Ready to take your home back."

* * *

For anyone who's curious, Picrew's are super popular at the moment so I made my OCs! It should technically go in notes but uhhh the formatting to embed images refuses to work with me.

**[ummmmandy girl maker](https://picrew.me/image_maker/114808)** & **[hex girl iris hero creator](https://picrew.me/image_maker/125919)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I don't particularly like this chapter, but I've been so busy and I just wanted to get something out, you know? Anyway, I hope it's okay! Chapters should hopefully be more frequent now~


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF sorry for the wait folks, I was ill for ages and then had a comic con over the weekend, so I've not had much energy to write :) I hope the wait is worth it!

Aubree passed the slender sword from hand to hand as she watched Quinlan release the _strigoi._ First he removed the thick muzzle from around its lower face - and it hissed, low and echoing in the empty basement. The stinger shot from its cracked, bloodless lips and Aubree skittered back - but even as the creature strained against the wire restraint around its neck, Quinlan held it back as if it was nothing.

"Are you ready?" he questioned evenly.

"Obviously not," Aubree muttered, pale fists clenching around her new silver sword. Maybe that had been a bad idea; she didn't even know how to _use it,_ she should have stuck with a knife, something easy. But did she really want to have to get so close to one of those-

Her thoughts were terminated as a blur of white rushed for her. Clawed hands reached for her - with a yelp she sidestepped, swinging the sword without any real thought as to _how,_ and the blade sailed harmlessly over the _strigoi's_ head. It paused, head tilted - and Aubree almost imagined it was taunting her for such an awful attempt on its life. 

"You'll need to do better than that," Cas jeered. 

"Thanks for the heads up," Aubree shot back - and then screeched as the _strigoi_ launched itself at her once again. A quick jump to the side and it stumbled past her, bare feet sliding on the basement floor, giving Aubree _just_ enough time to skitter back. The _strigoi_ stinger had a six foot radius - and she didn't even want to know how that much tongue fit inside its throat - but her sword was maybe three foot at best. 

The twisted snarl and drooling lips _really_ didn't convince her to get closer.

They regarded each other silently while Aubree's chest pounded, hands wrapped tight around the hilt of her sword. She didn't move - but what was weirder was the _strigoi's_ eerie stillness. It was as if it was watching her. Gauging its next move. For a moment something like recognition flashed across its pitch black eyes - its head tilted in thought, the gurgling hiss dimming to a whisper.

Maybe she had known it once. It could have been someone from the hospital, a neighbour, a regular at her favourite cafe; but the white skin stretched across an inhuman bone structure, the impossibly black eyes - whoever it _had been_ was lost. That flicker, though, that tiny spark of something _human_ on an inhuman face made her pause. 

Until the _strigoi's_ face twisted into a snarl and the moment shattered. It twitched and rattled, lurching as if it was going to throw up - and then the fleshy stinger shot from its lips. 

Aubree flung herself to the side, but not before a thick glob of saliva landed on her shoulder. The stench was coppery but somehow _acidic,_ burning her nose as she scrabbled to scrub it away. The image of those little worms rose in her mind, wriggling their way underneath her hoodie and under her skin. Only when it was completely gone did she allow herself to breath.

"Idiot," Cas called, "the worms aren't in the _saliva_."

Fighting the urge to gag, Aubree ignored him.

The _strigoi_ twitched and hissed, dark eyes unblinking as it regarded Aubree. Its face never changed except to snarl, thoughts a mystery - if it was even capable of _thoughts_ by human standards. Dropped low into a crouch it began to circle her; an animal stalking its prey.

Maybe it considered her a real threat now, angered by her refusal to just lie down and accept her fate. Although, Aubree noted with an uncomfortable coldness, her survival so far was mostly luck. As always, she was stuck on the defensive. In an attempt to mimic Quinlan's fighting stance she spread her feet, sword clutched in both shaking hands.

Then the _strigoi_ threw itself at her.

Its contorted, snarling face filled her vision, cracked lips dripping with saliva. Aubree twisted to the side just as the slimy stinger shot past - and her chest skipped a beat as she was rewarded with her first real glimpse of the three fangs protruding from the swollen end. Then the stinger snapped back, writhing in the air, and Aubree swung blindly. The sword was clumsy in her unpractised grasp, weighty in her sweating palms, but it did its job. Aubree shuddered as the sword made its connection. It sliced clean through, whisking through the air - and then a wet, slimy sound splattered against the ground.

The _strigoi_ howled, its pained echo ringing in her ears and bouncing across all four walls. Aubree stumbled back, gasping for air, and watched in muted disgust as it collapsed, writhing on the floor. Beside it, the stinger twitched as white worms wriggled among the milky blood.

Crushing them underfoot, Aubree tried not to vomit. 

"Good, now finish it off," Quinlan instructed. He stepped up beside her and Aubree winced, but his face remained impassable. 

The _strigoi_ whined, blood pouring from its mouth, and Aubree tried to ignore the uncomfortable pang in her stomach. How could something so ferocious look so _pathetic?_ Seconds ago it had been trying to murder her but now it was just.... sad. 

"Aubree," Quinlan warned, "this is what we're training you for. Finish it."

Her gaze flickered to him and her lips curled into a frown. He was _right,_ obviously, but that didn't make it better. With a resigned sigh she nodded, clutching the sword in her pale hands. She held it up, wincing as the _strigoi's_ whimpers invaded her ears - and brought the sword down to slice through its neck.

The basement fell silent. Aubree's sword clattered to the floor and she kicked it away, insides twisting. "There," she grunted - and her voice was too shrill in the silence, "happy now?"

"You are upset," Quinlan said. As if it _needed_ to be stated.

"What do _you_ care?" she snapped. The _strigoi's_ corpse wormed its way into her mind and she turned away, blinking back the sudden threat of tears. _No._ She wasn't going to cry over a monster; not with three pairs of ghostly eyes on her. "Are we done?"

Quinlan's only response was a curt nod. 

_God,_ sometimes she wanted to kill him. Instead she settled for the silent treatment. Without another word she whirled, stalking off across the basement with only her heavy footsteps for company. 

"You forgot your sword," Zivah called after her.

"I don't want it," Aubree snapped back. Reaching the elevator seemed to take an eternity - an eternity with three gazes hot on her back. She imagined Cas laughing at her, mocking her weakness; Zivah's attractive face pulled into motherly concern; and Quinlan, as emotionless as always, barely even interested.

The elevator dinged open and she stormed inside, slamming a slender hand over the button for the third floor. Aubree didn't allow herself the indulgence of peeking through the closing doors, hoping to see just _something_ on Quinlan's pale face.

* * *

Teal eyes squinted in the murky darkness, but the words on the page remained a mystery. Aubree must have read the same paragraph a dozen times but her mind _refused_ to let her focus. It wasn't good to be alone, not with so many thoughts spinning in her mind - but who was she supposed to talk to? _Quinlan?_ Yeah, sure.

Eventually she huffed and tossed the book aside, slumping back against the lumpy pillows scattered across the bed. There had to be _something_ to do, anything, just to take her mind off of the vision of the _strigoi_ writhing at her feet. If she thought about it for any longer she was going to go insane. Not to mention that every time she let her brain shut off she was plagued by thoughts of Dawn...

_Shit,_ this was awful.

Maybe food would help. Aubree still didn't know how they were keeping her fridge stocked - wasn't sure she wanted to know - but there was always enough for basic meals. Heaving herself away from the bed, Aubree trudged into the joined living room and kitchenette-

Only to reel back with a shriek as her eyes locked on the dark figure lurking by the front door. Her hands reached for a kitchen knife - not silver, but it would do - only to pause as she recognised the dimly glowing white eyes.

"Quinlan? How many times do I have to ask you not to let yourself in?"

Broad shoulder shrugged, and even in the darkness she saw his lips quirk into a smirk. "I knocked. You didn't answer," he replied simply.

"Asshole," she muttered, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered at his almost-smile. She reached for the light, and suddenly the room was bathed in a dull yellow glow. "So," she continued, letting the knife drop awkwardly back onto the kitchen counter top, "what do you want?"

"To apologise."

Was she going crazy? Had she somehow fallen asleep and this was just some weird dream? Those were the only two explanations for what she had just heard. She blinked once, twice, staring stupidly at him as if he had just told her he was flying to the moon.

He regarded her cooly, but his smirk softened under her gaze. "I've realised that perhaps I've been pushing you too hard. Humans aren't quite as adaptable to the concept of violence as we _strigoi_ are."

Aubree simply huffed and tore her gaze away. "Killing is nothing to you," she replied softly, "you can't expect me to feel the same."

"I don't," he answered, "but you need to realise that this isn't about how you _feel,_ or what morals you hold. It's about stopping the _strigoi,_ and the Master."

That name again. Aubree parted her lips to ask - and then realised that for once, she didn't want to know. Instead she grunted, "this isn't much of an apology." It was a halfhearted attempt.

Quinlan swept across the cramped living room, dark coat swishing - and at first she had no idea what he planned to do. Then he reached out a pale hand and rested it on her narrow shoulder, almost like an attempt at comfort. "It has to be done, but that doesn't mean I take joy in your misery." 

His hand was so _hot,_ even beneath the leather gloves, and the touch left Aubree breathless. Green eyes danced upward, meeting his colourless ones, and she swore a smile flashed across his features. Sighing softly, Aubree let her own smile curve at her full lips. "You're just doing what you have to," she acknowledged, "I understand."

"I am," Quinlan confirmed, "And I apologise if I've been... _cold_ to you. It isn't often I spend time around humans." He let his hand drop, the warmth seeping from Aubree instantly.

Oddly, she found herself missing his touch. She shook her head as if to physically dispel the thought, once again dropping her gaze to the floor. "You're still nicer than Cas," she joked, but with her flushed cheeks and embarrassed little laugh, it fell flat. Shifting from foot to foot, Aubree suddenly wished she was alone. Funny, not ten minutes ago she wished the opposite.

"In all fairness, I don't believe that would be difficult."

Just like that, the tension vanished. Aubree let out a startled burst of laughter, eyes snapping wide. A joke! Quinlan had just made a _joke._ She stifled the laughter with a hand, but it didn't stop her shoulders from shaking with the effort of concealing it. "You're right," she managed through her fingers.

Something flickered over Quinlan's bleached eyes, obscuring the iris. With a jolt Aubree realised it was a _second eyelid,_ and the laughter died in her throat. Right. No matter what way she put it, he was still _strigoi._ Different to the rest, yes, for reasons she didn't know - but he was still one of them. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach.

Quinlan sensed the change, tilting his head as he said, "something is wrong."

"Nothing," Aubree muttered. She scrubbed at her eyes, which were suddenly so heavy they struggled to stay open. Stepping away she continued, "I should sleep. See you in the morning, Quinlan."

He hesitated, regarding her with narrow eyes and an expression she couldn't decipher. Then he shrugged, accepting her excuse, and turned to go. "Rest well," he said, "I expect you to be ready for training as usual."

"Sure," Aubree replied quietly, watching him slip through the door and into the darkness.

Watching him leave should have filled her with relief, but instead it left her feeling even more empty than before. With a sigh she turned away, knowing sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

If Aubree squinted _just right,_ her face pressed up against the thick wooden slats barring the windows, she could almost see the street below. She hadn't stepped outside in _weeks_ and the stuffy, stale interior of the rooms was beginning to make her itch. If she could only catch a glimpse of someone, _anyone,_ to know that people were still actually out there. That people were _safe._

Quinlan was supposed to be stopping this threat, and she was supposed to be helping - but so far all she had done was lock herself away. She didn't know what was out there. Didn't know whether the _strigoi_ were just a lurking threat or if the apocalypse had already destroyed her home. Was the world out there the same world she remembered? Stuck in here it was impossible to know. She was only two storeys up but she might as well have been on a different planet.

Huffing, Aubree collapsed back onto the sofa. It was lumpy beneath her back, the cushions old and missing half of their stuffing. Whoever had lived here before hadn't taken care of their furniture. Wherever they were _now,_ Aubree hoped they were doing okay. Living their best life in some fancy house on the other side of the Isle of Wight. Unlikely, considering this place was just supposed to be getting renovated, but she hoped it all the same.

A low groan emanated in the silent room and Aubree flinched. Right, food - yet another thing she had started to hate. She couldn't even eat what she wanted any more; whenever she got low on food more would appear while she was training. Quinlan had never mentioned it and _she_ had never brought it up but... ugh, this wasn't helping. Aubree all but rolled off the sofa in dragged herself over to the little kitchenette. 

She was half way through making a chicken salad sandwich when her mind drifted to takeout. _God,_ what she wouldn't give for a pizza or Chinese or... well, anything. She was sure that even bringing it up would end in a lecture, though. Lucky her. With a sigh Aubree tossed aside her dirty cutlery and glared down at her sandwich. 

A knock jolted her from her reverie and for a moment she just stood there, blinking owlishly at the door. She didn't lock it, didn't _need to,_ since Quinlan always managed to get inside anyway. Half the time he didn't even announce his presence. Lips pursed, Aubree headed to the door. Another knock, this one louder, had her hesitating with her hand hovering over the handle.

"I know you're in there. I can hear you moving."

Oh. Aubree's chest skipped at the smoothness of his voice, although she had heard it a hundred times. She swallowed, grasped the door handle, and let the door swing open.

"What took you so long?" Quinlan questioned with one hairless brow quirked, "I knocked."

"I know," Aubree replied, "is that a new skill you've acquired?"

He didn't laugh - not that she expected him to - but the quirk of his full lips released some of the tension from her shoulders. He turned to her, pale skin illuminated by the overhead light and... said nothing. 

Aubree kept her eye on him as she fetched her lunch, hopping up onto the kitchen counter to regard him warily. He seemed to enjoy turning up unannounced like this, it was hardly unusual - but this was different in a way she couldn't quite name. She sat there awkwardly with her plate on her knee, legs swinging idly. Eventually she crinkled her nose and asked, "why are you here? You usually launch into your spiel without letting me speak but-"

"I don't know."

"Oh." Aubree blinked. Her lips parted and then closed again in quick succession. "Well that's... weird."

"Zivah and I have a lead, so we will both be leaving tomorrow," Quinlan answered, deftly avoiding her awkward attempts at conversation. "I suppose I'm hear to say you'll be alone for a while. Alone with _Cas,_ that is."

Aubree raised a thick brow. "And that warrants a special visit?"

A shrug. Quinlan still stood in the middle of her living room, all dark and broody. It was funny, seeing him in his all black getup, outlined by the gaudy flower wallpaper behind him. "I thought you would want to know. To... prepare?"

"I know being stuck with Cas will be a trial, but I promise not to murder him while you're gone," Aubree replied, "or let him murder _me,_ " she tacked on. Finally she took a bite of her sandwich, chewing it thoughtfully while she regarded Quinlan. There had to be more to this than he was telling her. Sure, turning up out of the blue was kind of his _thing,_ but he usually had something important to say. 

It was as if telling her about this mission was his excuse. But for what? An excuse to _see her?_ Hilarious. That indicated he actually _wanted_ to see her.

"So," Aubree began, glancing up from her plate, "what's it like out there? Shouldn't I be _helping,_ or something? That's why you kidnapped me after all."

"We didn't kidnap you."

Rolling her eyes, Aubree shot back, "sure, keep telling yourself that." 

Quinlan simply cast her an unreadable look. Well, it was no more unreadable than usual but it felt _different._ Different how, she couldn't say. "We are keeping it under control," he answered simply, "but we must find the one who started this, and _soon._ It could lead us to the Master."

"And stop the end of the world, I know." Although she had been picking at her sandwich, Aubree hadn't taken a single bite - and now she didn't want to. Setting it aside she dropped from the counter top to fetch a glass of water. On her way she grabbed a tiny packet of painkillers - something _else_ that had mysteriously appeared along with her food - and popped two. Why did every encounter with Quinlan end in a headache?

Weak yellow light shifted, suddenly burning her eyes - and when Aubree turned off the tap and glanced up, Quinlan had moved. Moved _closer._ Brows creased, full lips curled down, and for a minuscule flash he looked _worried._ Almost apologetic. Then it was gone, his pale face perfectly and carefully blank.

Yet he hadn't moved. If anything he had shifted closer, so close Aubree could have reached out to brush a hand across his face. Her own brows creased, hand clenching around the water glass. "Everything all right there?" she croaked out.

Quinlan blinked, the sheer white of his second eyelids shuttering over his eyes vertically instead of horizontally. Then he stepped back, hands held stiffly by his side, and said, "you will be out there soon enough, once you are ready. Until then, Zivah and I will take care of the _strigoi._ " 

"Right." She huffed out an enormous breath - why had she been holding it? - and bowed against the wall. An odd heaviness settled in her stomach as Quinlan withdrew, allowing her personal space again. She had _liked_ him so close. Even if they hadn't touched, even if there was no warm breath against her skin. _Why?_ It wasn't as if-

"I must be on my way," Quinlan shattered the tense silence, "Cas will take over training duties until Zivah and I are back. Try not to kill each other."

Aubree's mouth refused to cooperate, and she said nothing as Quinlan made his leave. Instead she watched as he disappeared through her open door, slinking into the darkness and leaving no trace.

Well, that had been her _weirdest_ encounter yet. Clattering her glass onto the counter top, Aubree dropped her head into her hands and released a shaking sigh.

* * *

Aubree wandered aimlessly down the indistinguishable halls, Converse pattering silently against the wooden floor. Long dried paint cans littered the floor, tucked into corners and shoved against the wall. This level, she assumed, hadn't been cleared out because Quinlan simply didn't need the space. She passed each door, imagining the type of person that had once lived inside - and up until recently, had undoubtedly planned to move back in. 

She wandered past flat 22, then 23 and 24, enjoying her rare slice of silence. It wasn't until number 24 that she paused, head tilted and ears straining.

_Click, click._ Aubree was far more familiar with that organic, wet clicking than she ever wanted to be. Holding her breath she listened, biting down on her lower lip so hard it stung. The clicking continued, followed by a muffled, hissing rattle rising from behind the door. 

Aubree put her hand to the door handle. She gripped it tight. Turned it. Reached for her knife.

The room was dark, courtesy of the blacked out windows. No light shone through; the windows were more thoroughly boarded than in her own room, that was unmistakable. A shadow moved in the corner of her vision, beyond the door leading to the kitchen. Fabric rustled.

Aubree skittered back, eyes snapping wide even though she couldn't see a _thing._ "Zivah?" she murmured, "Cas?" Breaking the silence filled her with a heavy dread, like alerting them to her presence was the biggest mistake and now she was going to _regret it._ What were they doing in here?-

"Aubree?"

Quinlan's voice. She let out a gasp, hands fumbling for the light switch - and then the entire room was engulfed in sickly yellow light. Quinlan's gaunt face swam into view as her vision adjusted and she flinched against the harshness.

Quinlan, for all his inability to live in sunlight, didn't so much as blink at the sudden influx of light. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask _you_ the same thing," Aubree snapped, "I thought a _strigoi_ had found its way in. I mean-" biting down on the inside of her lip, Aubree sighed, "you know what I mean." 

That familiar smirk crept across his pale face. He moved forward, kitchen door slipping closed behind him - but Aubree doubted he had been looking for a sandwich. "This place may be no fort, but it's still the safest place on the entire island. You have nothing to fear."

"Hmm," Aubree replied quietly, "So... what are you doing down here anyway? I thought we only used the second floor and the basement." Shifting, Aubree tried to pretend like Quinlan's gaze wasn't burrowing into her, like it wasn't making her face flush and her hands twitch. Shoving those thoughts to the back of her mind Aubree perched on the arm of the closest armchair, looking up at Quinlan without really _looking._

She noticed the way he glanced at the door, firmly closed, before letting his white eyes snapped back to Aubree. "Nothing important."

Full lips pursed, hands folded in her lap as Aubree let her gaze drop. "I'm not stupid," she replied with a sigh, "I know you were eating. Feeding?" She rose a pale hand to rub the back of her neck, nose crinkling. It wasn't something she wanted to think about - but the first bubbles of curiosity rose inside her nonetheless.

Quinlan hummed. Suddenly nervous - if that was something he was even capable of - he turned to the door with a swish of his long coat. "I should leave. There is a lot to prepare for before Zivah and I depart-"

"The stinger; that's how you feed, right?"

Translucent eyelids blinked. The silence stretched, on and on, until she was certain he wasn't going to humour her with a reply. Then, "yes. Why do you ask?"

"Dunno," Aubree answered truthfully, shifting in her seat.. She had been perching on the armchair, legs crossed; but she sank further into the overstuffed cushions with a sigh. Then she asked something stupid, the words flying from her lips without thought. She asked, "can I see it?"

Quinlan's brows furrowed, staring at her like she was an idiot. Or maybe he was just staring at her, his expressions as elusive as ever. "And why would you want that?"

Why _did_ she want that? It wasn't something she could form into words, not something she could put a name to. She mulled over the possible responses; that she was intrigued, wanted to learn; or that she had some kind of morbid fascination over the creatures terrorising her home. As Aubree pushed herself from her seat she realised none of that was _quite_ right. It wasn't about the _strigoi,_ but about _him._ Her cheeks flushed as she crept forward, but Quinlan didn't back away and so she didn't slow down.

Then she was right before him, head tilted up, so close she could have felt his breath against her skin if he had needed to breath. Could he feel _hers,_ shuddering against hit too-hot skin?

"What are you doing?"

" _Show me,_ " Aubree replied - teasing now, despite her brain shouting at her to stop. Even standing on her toes she was tiny compared to Quinlan, and she craned her neck back to send him a smirk. "What, afraid you'll hurt me?" Her smirk only grew as she let a hand settle against his shoulder.

"That is _not_ the problem. You - I..." For once, Quinlan's stoic exterior stuttered. Aubree enjoyed the way his lids flickered, the way his lips curled as confusion took over. She had never seen him like this, so unsure yet completely still. Unwilling to move away. or simply too stunned to do so?

It was time to back away. If the strange, warm feeling in her chest wasn't enough then the dull rattled from within Quinlan's chest _was._ Yet Aubree didn't back away. Emboldened by his unusual submission she pressed herself closer, soaking up the warmth from his overheating body.

His deep set eyes were lidded, gazing down at her with confusion and, if she allowed the thought, wonder. Did she imagine the brief flicker of something else across his eyes? Of something _more?_

"Just _show me,_ " Aubree murmured, unsure if she was still talking about the stinger, "would it kill you to trust me, for once?"

"You don't want to see it," Quinlan replied softly. 

"Pretty sure I do."

His lips parted, just enough to glimpse the pointed teeth within - and Quinlan relented. Gentle hands pried her grip from his shoulder, and although Aubree frowned at the loss of contact he simply rolled his eyes. Not unkindly, which was a new but welcome change in pace. "You might regret this," Quinlan whispered - as if he might regret it too.

A self conscious _strigoi._ Now there was something new. The thought brought a smile to her lips - and along with it, the desire to pull him closer. 

Instead Quinlan stepped away, leaving behind a draft in his absence. "Sit down," he ordered - but his voice held none of the usual demand. Aubree did as he told her, perching not on the armchair but sofa instead - and Quinlan balanced beside her. Whereas moments ago their bodies had been pressed together now they were miles apart, as if he was afraid to get too close. Yet his gaze didn't waver. "If you wish to change your mind-"

"I don't," she answered too quickly. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears but not from nerves, and she wondered if Quinlan could hear it. Was it difficult, being so close to a human but unable to feed?

Quinlan hesitated, leaving her to wonder if it was _him_ that wanted to back down. Then it happened. His lips parted, revealing pointed teeth even whiter than his skin. Then something pushed past those full lips, uncoiling and stretching. It was accompanied by that familiar clicking and a deep, gravelly hissing, but no longer was it muffled by the constraints of his throat.

Aubree gasped, bright eyes snapping wide as she gazed in awe. A hand fluttered to her throat, then her mouth, before settling back on her knee.

She had never seen one up close. She was filled with wonder as the appendage curled from his lips. The thick, fleshy stinger was tipped with barbs - teeth? - and pulsed as if in time with a heartbeat. It was weird and surreal but so wonderfully _unique._

Aubree had no idea she had been reaching out to touch it, not until Quinlan's own hand caught her wrist. She blinked, lidded gaze darting to meet his own wide white eyes. She imagined he was silently asking her _what the hell? -_ but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Will it hurt me?" she questioned.

He shook his head no, but his hot gaze never left hers.

Although it seemed to pain him to let go he _did,_ and Aubree's hand was once again free. Her fingers curled, hesitating mere inches from him - and when he simply regarded her she took the initiative. Creeping across the sofa, a soft smile on her lips, she didn't stop until their knees touched. She was close enough to kiss him, and for the first time Aubree allowed herself to consider it.

The stinger rattled when she touched it, so gently she barely felt it at first. It was damp and fleshy like a tongue, but rougher and sturdier too. She let her fingers roam, fluttering from one groove and dip to the next with a gentle sigh. The sensation was oddly pleasant beneath her fingertips but he was so _close_ it made her dizzy.

When her fingers grazed across his lips, Quinlan darted to his feet. The stinger was gone in a flash, replaced by a dark scowl he didn't even try to hide. "It's late, and I have much to prepare for tomorrow," growled.

Just like that the magic vanished. Aubree's face flooded red as she bolted to her feet. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "I didn't mean to-"

"I shouldn't have indulged you," Quinlan replied. His tone was firm, but somehow it felt as if _he_ was trying to apologise to _her._ "You should get some sleep for training tomorrow. You will not see me before Zivah and I depart."

There was no time to reply, as Quinlan traversed the room with frightening speed. He turned once, looking back at her, and then shook his head. He left without another word.

The room was cold without him, yet her legs refused to let her leave. She sat there for a moment, willing her rapid heartbeat to calm, listening until she was _sure_ he was gone. Only then did she stand on shaking legs and force herself to leave.

She didn't stop when she passed Cas in the hallway, ignoring whatever stupid remark he had for her this time. She barely heard her own footsteps against the wooden floors, barely noticed as she hopped the stairs two at a time.

Only when she was safely locked inside her bedroom did she allow herself to think about it. Had she gone too far?

The obvious answer rang in her ears, clear and horrible; _yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% on the pacing here, and it feels more like exposition than anything concrete - but I still kind of like how it turned out?


	12. Chapter 12

"You're stance is all wrong."

"Stop flailing and actually _fight_."

"If I wasn't here, you'd be screwed."

Aubree grunted as a pale hand grasped for her throat. Flying backward she ducked just in time, the hand closing around thin air. "I _know,_ " she snapped, just as a second hand grabbed for her, "you think I'm not trying?"

"Not trying hard _enough,_ " Cas replied with a humourless laugh.

"Maybe," Aubree huffed, "if you let me go _out there,_ actually help, I'd be doing more."

Her opponent hissed, as if mocking the very idea, and an almost-laugh erupted from its throat as it charged. What, was this mindless _strigoi_ in cahoots with Cas or something? God, sometimes she swore Cas-

The _strigoi_ reared back with a wet, guttural cry - its mouth opened, then stretched, and the stinger shot from between its pale lips. Aubree sidestepped but her foot slid on the metal sheet floor and she stumbled. Although she regained her balance only a moment later it was enough time for the _strigoi_ to turn, its dark and hollow eyes staring at her in the semi-darkness.

"In the dark, you're at a disadvantage," Cas pointed out helpfully.

It only made Aubree's bubbling irritation rise. "I know!" she shot back, breathless and panting. How long had she been at this? She must have fought four _strigoi_ today and this one was the worst. Shooting it a glare Aubree lunged, knife clutched in her pale hand. 

They had been going at it for two hours, and even _strigoi_ got tired. Especially _strigoi_ that had been starved for a week and used for sport. Because that's what this was really, wasn't it? Aubree's movement was slow, her breathing heavy - but the _strigoi_ faltered as it tried to dodge the glimmer of her silver knife. This was her moment, and she wasn't about to give it up.

The knife slid effortlessly as it pierced the _strigoi's_ flesh. Aubree let out a gasp as the knife embedded itself to the hilt, white blood spilling from the bubbling wound. Pale skin peeled back, blackened and burned, as the _strigoi_ wrenched the knife from deep within its ribs. No sooner had the knife clattered to the ground than it did too, howling and hissing. Clutching the wound still burning into its side.

Skittering back from the writhing creature - and the white worms crawling from the gash - Aubree turned a raised brow to Cas. "See? I'm not as useless as you think."

This was an old conversation by now. Since Quinlan and Zivah left two days ago she had mentioned it a dozen times. Each time she received the same reply; you're still not ready.

"I'll never be ready if you don't let me _do anything,_ " Aubree snapped, preemptively cutting off whatever nonsense Cas was about to say next. "You're training me to help. So _let me."_

"Not until Quinlan gets back."

"Yeah, and who put him in charge?"

Cas sighed, accented by a dull rattle in the back of his throat. " _He_ did. He's older and more experienced than the rest of us. Not to mention he was in charge of the Sun Hunters."

_Sun Hunters._ The Ancients' most skilled fighters. If Quinlan had taught the best of the best, how come she was still so far behind? 

Her fallen opponent lay still at her feet, the white liquid spilling across the dark floor. "This," she snapped, nudging the body with her boot, "isn't getting me anywhere. I need to be _out there_ , dealing with the real problem."

Cas' inky eyes narrowed, a snort caught in his throat. "Quinlan wasted his time on you."

"Why does everything have to be a battle with you?" Aubree flung her arms in the air with a strangled yell, dropping them back to her side with an echoing _thud. "_ What the hell happened to you to make you such an _asshole?"_

"Oh, I don't know," Cas growled, and his voice was dangerously low, "Maybe being turned into a monster did it? Or maybe being forced to live two hundred years past a natural lifespan. All to have it end up here, babysitting some _brat."_

Oh. Aubree, wide eyed, fell silent. The knife, still held in her white knuckle grasp, slowly dripped _strigoi_ blood against the ground. For a long moment, the steady patter of liquid on metal was the only sound. By the time Aubree forced herself to speak, Cas had already turned away. To his back she murmured, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I had no idea."

Her reply was simply a grunt. "We're done training."

Hopping from foot to foot, lips pulled into a wince, Aubree wanted to say more. Yet there wasn't anything else _to_ say. So instead of sorting through the jumble of her mind, she simply skittered away.

As the elevator doors shuddered closed behind her, Aubree could have sworn Cas turned her way and glared.

Back in her room, face down on the lumpy old bed, Aubree stifled the urge to scream into her pillow. This was pointless; she needed to _do something,_ to get out there and start taking her home back. Here she was, safe in her ivory tower while her neighbours and friends suffered.

How many people had died? How many had suffered the same fate as Dawn?

That was _it._ Aubree was done hiding. She sat up, wincing at how her joints popped in protest, ignoring the exhaustion settling into her bones. Clothes lay scattered at the foot of the bed, and _some_ of them had to be protective enough to meet her needs... a pair of thick grey jeans, a long sleeved jumper, long trench coat... it was no armour by any means but _maybe..._

She tucked her bright ginger hair under a hat, feeling more than a little ridiculous as she lifted her knife. There was no kind of sheath or holster, so in the belt it went. Her hands hovered over the Roman knife in the corner of her room. Sure, she hadn't used it since that _one time,_ and she had only kept it because Zivah wouldn't let it go - but with a heavy sigh she took it too.

Out in the hall, everything was deathly quiet. Was Cas still lurking? Experimentally, she took a step. The floor was miraculously silent despite the state of the ancient wooden panels. With a sigh of relief, Aubree kept moving. Across the hall and down the stairs - the elevator was too noisy, too suspicious - and along another twisting corridor, and she was finally at the front door. Heavy double doors greeted her, locked up tight. Not to mention the enormous wooden barricade.

Her chest lurched as she attempted to heavy the barricade from the door. The wood dug into her palms and strained every muscle in her arms - and eventually, with a gasping breath, it hurtled toward the floor. The resounding shudder shook the ground, slicing through the silence. 

Aubree worked quickly, kicking the massive hunk of wood aside and grappling with the door. Locked, obviously, but the old keypad blinked at her in the dimness. Well, worth a try. She tried a random number, then another, and a third before realising it was pointless. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out any ability to hear Cas coming. What if she...

Hands shaking, Aubree tried her flat number. The keypad flashed, and the doors clicked open. _Oh!_

"The hell are you doing?"

Aubree blinked, mind grinding to a halt as Cas' cold voice penetrated the silence. _Of course._

"I'm not going to stop you," he continued, "but," he paused, and Aubree felt the heat from his skin as he stalked closer, "Quinlan will have _both_ our heads if you get hurt."

From the corner of her eyes Aubree caught his hot glare. She shifted, heart still shuddering in her chest, and lowered her gaze. "Worried about yourself? And you say us humans are self centred."

"Go do your dumb vigilante thing. I'll cover for you. _Just_ this once."

A grin spread across her lips and without thinking she spun on her heel, nervous little laugh escaping her. "You're all right after all."

"Not so awful yourself," he replied - and it was probably the closest to a compliment she would ever get, "it isn't your fault you're human."

Okay, maybe not so much of a compliment after all - but she'd take what she could get. Smiling, she nodded. "I'll be back before Quinlan and Zivah. Thanks, Cas. And uh..." Aubree winced at the memory of her earlier outburst. "And sorry about the stuff I said earlier."

A shrug, a thin hand shooing her away. He might have smiled, but Aubree put it down to the darkness pulling tricks on her. "Just go before I change my mind."

She didn't need told twice. With a nod and another smile, Aubree slipped out into the murky evening darkness.

Cold, crisp air hit her face, the breeze pulling at her loose strands of hair beneath the beanie hat. After so long inside she had almost forgotten what it felt like. She took a moment to appreciate the coolness against her bare skin.

Behind her the doors shuddered closed, breaking her from the trance. Well, no going back now - not unless she wanted to admit to Cas that she had been wrong. Which she didn't.

The first step was easy, and so was the second; but as Aubree ambled down the street she realised, with heavy disappointment, that she didn't have a _plan._ That's what she got for being so focused on just getting out, and not on a single part that came after. Oops.

She wandered down the street, knife in her belt and sword awkwardly tucked out of sight underneath her coat. She felt a little ridiculous in it, like she was trying to imitate Quinlan. But that wasn't it at all. It didn't matter that it made him look so ethereally elegant and... oddly handsome. Yeah, this was just a remnant of her old punk stage, something ugly but useful... nothing to do with Quinlan at all.

A noise to her left. A corner shop sat dark and abandoned. Beside it a takeaway, equally as empty. At this time in the evening both should have been open, doors wide and inviting. With her hands pressed against the window Aubree peeked inside the shop - nothing. Then that noise again, the scuttle of feet and the rattle of something being knocked over. 

Something shot out from the road between shop and takeaway. The creature let out a yowl as it flew towards her and Aubree jumped back - only to see an orange cat disappear around a corner. Oh. She stifled the urge to laugh at her own stupidity - a _cat!_ How ridiculous.

Well, there was nothing to find here, so she moved on. Her feet carried her left, down a twisting road of dark houses and silent streets. Dull light filtered through a handful, but every window was locked tight, curtains drawn. In only a few weeks this had gone from a bustling, busy place to a complete ghost town.

Fear crept up her spine, feet carrying her with increasing speed. Realisation set in - realisation that this was stupid. Dangerous. What was she going to do on her own? Even if she killed a _strigoi_ tonight - or two or three or four - if they could do this to her town in a handful of weeks, how would that help? She'd kill one and two more would replace it. Aubree shivered as she hurried down the street, pulling her jacket closer.

She made it around the corner before that creeping sensation became unbearable. Cold eyes on her back, the feeling of being watched from the shadows. Something was wrong - but when she looked, there was nothing.

A light shone dimly ahead, bulbs flickering in the darkness. Another corner shop, this one with its lights on but door closed. Movement inside made Aubree pause, brows furrowed - and she caught a glimpse of an elderly man scurry across the shop floor. A younger woman hovered by the window, dark eyes peering into the empty street. Her eyes locked onto Aubree and she flinched - but then cracked a small smile of relief. She probably hadn't expected Aubree to be _human._

The reality of it all was finally settling in, leaving Aubree cold. All of a sudden, all she wanted to do was turn around, go back to the safety of her cramped, makeshift home. But she was here now, and even if she didn't meet a single _strigoi_ on these streets, at least she was _trying._ At least she wasn't hiding anymore.

The young woman eyed her as she slinked past the window - Aubree let her gaze hover just a moment too long, noticing the dark purple circles under her eyes and the days-old mascara smudged below her eyelashes. She looked as awful as Aubree felt, on that first day, exhausted and mind plagued by questions.

Without thinking Aubree put a hand against the cold glass of the door. It swung open, the bell above jingling happily. Aubree almost laughed at how jolly it sounded in the emptiness.

"Hello," the woman said nervously, "you're out late."

It wasn't late - barely past eight o'clock - but when she thought of the deserted streets and the cloying darkness, she understood. "So ae you," she replied with a gentle smile, "is it safe?"

A shrug. "Probably not, but Dad wanted to make sure the place hadn't been broken into or something." The woman was a young blonde, pretty despite the exhaustion clinging to her. Her smile, although tired, showed tiny dimples. "We're not actually _open,_ but if you want something go ahead." She eyed the sword nervously, but thankfully didn't comment. 

"Oh." Aubree shrugged narrow shoulders, casting a nervous glance across the street. She still couldn't shake the unsettling shiver along her spine, the feeling that something lurked just out of sight. "You should probably go home now you know the shop's fine."

"Probably," the woman admitted, "but it feels safer in here than outside, you know? Maybe we'll just wait it out until morning."

The shop was all glass, and honestly that sounded like a dangerous idea. Aubree parted her lips to insist they go home - but then a thundering clatter cut her off and the old man came stumbling from what she only assumed was a store room. His feet skidded over the tile floors and he reached out to support himself on the shop's counter top.

There was no time to ask what was wrong. The answer came a moment later when a pale figure tumbled out after him. Through the open doorway Aubree saw a broken window and another dark shape climbing through.

The young woman gasped and ran to her father - they clung to each other, wide eyed as the _strigoi_ approached.

Aubree's mind was working overtime. Even with the sword across her back she reached for the slender knife, familiar in her grasp. "Get back," she told the two - they listened, scuttling back to crouch in the corner behind the counter. The woman was crying. Aubree faltered then, the woman's muffled gasps ringing in her ears.

The first _strigoi_ advanced, head lolled to one side, stringy white hair clinging to its pale face. This one looked new, revealing hints of its old self in the faded tattoos and ripped leather jacket. Its lips curled into a mockery of a smile, revealing pointed teeth and the tip of the lethal stinger.

Hands shaking and heart hammering against her ribs, Aubree ran. Her feet struggled to find purchase on the slippery tiles but she shot at the _strigoi_ all the same, knife poised for a strike-

It sidestepped, hand outstretched to catch her by the arm. Aubree gasped as she was thrown to the side and her back smacked against the wall. The wall _caved,_ the crack of splintering plaster making her fear the worst as an ache spread throughout her shoulder blades - but no, she was fine. The wall was in worse shape. 

Somehow, Aubree found the time to feel a swell of guilt, eyes darting toward the old man. He was too busy cowering to care that she was wrecking his shop. 

The _strigoi_ didn't give her time to apologise. With a guttural howl it convulsed - and the stinger uncurled from between its blood crusted lips. The barbed end clicked, as if searching for her, and then in a blur it shot toward her. The _strigoi_ didn't even need to move.

Aubree rolled to the side, her aching shoulders protesting with a jolt of pain, and the stinger embedded itself in the already crumbling wall. Then she climbed to her feet, hit adrenaline coursing through her, pounding in her ears - and sliced.

The _strigoi_ fell with a cry, shaking and trembling. The stinger, still twitching, landed on the floor with a disgusting, wet slap.

Aubree allowed herself to breath, laughter threatening to bubble in her chest - but then she saw the dark figure in the store room. The second _strigoi_ had finally made its way through the tiny window. Its legs hovered there for a moment, and then its entire body crashed into a pile of boxes.

"Stay there, and don't touch the worms," Aubree hollered to the two still hiding. It was less demanding, more of a plead. They didn't look as if they were going to argue. Saving them only a quick glance, Aubree dashed into the dark store room.

This _strigoi_ was older, its eyes inky black, skin so pale it almost _glowed_ in the darkness. As it heaved itself from the prison of boxes Aubree saw it was a woman, her features angular. She was attractive, even with her bloody lips and pasty skin. Then her lips curled into a grimace, a low hiss escaping them, and the image was destroyed.

There were too many boxes. The room was too cramped, there were too many obstacles. She stepped over an upturned box, knife poised, as the _strigoi_ wrestled its way out.

That was when she noticed more inky silhouettes creeping along the alley outside. Pale, corpse-like hands were already bracing the window frame.

There was no time to think. Aubree skittered back as the first _strigoi's_ stinger flew toward her. Even as she darted out of reach a glob of sticky saliva dripped onto her trench coat. She slashed in a wide arch, bringing down the knife on the stinger; but at that very moment the _strigoi_ lurched forward and her knife sailed harmlessly past. 

A second _strigoi_ climbed inside, limbs long and awkward. It let out a screech as a spindly arm snagged on a shard of glass. White blood leaked from the scratch.

There was no time to think strategy. No time to think _at all,_ especially when Aubree's pulse roared so loudly in her ears she couldn't hear her own thoughts. She faltered as the _strigoi_ reached out with pale, grasping hands. Like zombies - but much, much worse. She had to lure them out, had to risk the old man and woman in the shop. There was barely enough room in here to _breathe-_

The stinger launched again, whistling past Aubree's head as she darted to the side. There was hardly time to balance before the second _strigoi_ made for her, hissing and rattling as its mouth dripped fresh blood. Aubree had just enough time to wonder who's blood it was before its lips peeled back. Two deadly stingers lunged towards her in quick succession and they were _so fast_ everything blurred.

A tug on her sleeve as the stingers retreated. Wide eyes darted down to see a tear in her coat, a single worm clinging to the fabric. With a shriek she shook it away, scrabbling at the sleeve with her heart in her throat - but her tshirt underneath was intact, her skin unharmed.

The distraction, only seconds long, was enough. Both _strigoi_ advanced and Aubree danced out of the store room. Harsh fluorescent lights stunned her eyes and she stumbled, the _strigoi_ following. They were almost perfectly synced, advancing with an eerie precision. When the stingers shot from their throats this time, Aubree wasn't ready. She ducked, skittered backward - and then her foot collided with something damp and warm.

The world spun as Aubree went down. Her elbow cracked against the floor with a bright burst of pain and she saw _stars._ The floor beneath her was wet and... _moving?_ A scream caught in her throat as realisation hit her like a train - blood. _Worms._ And the two living _strigoi_ were still coming.

She launched to her feet, vaguely aware of a woman's voice calling to her, a man's face peeking from over the shop counter. Her heart pounded as she tore off her coat, catching sight of the white worms squirming. They were on the floor too, crawling toward her; but there was no time because the _strigoi_ were still coming.

The first _strigoi_ rushed her with such terrifying speed that for a moment, it was just a blur. Aubree's heart raced, breath gasping as she slashed outward in one swooping arc - but then a solid force slammed into her and together they went spiralling into a magazine display. The metal display collapsed, crashing to the floor and bringing them down with it. Aubree gasped as something sliced her cheek. Heat bloomed across her face.

The _strigoi_ roared, and even in the haze of panic Aubree saw why. The display had splintered, metal shelf embedding into the creature's shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, already puddling on the floor, soaking through the spilled magazines. The second _strigoi_ joined the first, head cocked to the side as if assessing the wound. If that monster had ever been a doctor at her old workplace, now it was nothing more than a shell.

This was her opening. The chance to take them out while they were distracted. But as Aubree watched them fawn over each other with their pallid faces twisted into something akin to _concern,_ she hesitated. Then her gaze shifted to the old man and his daughter, the way they clung to each other, and her mind was set.

Aubree's entire body ached as she climbed to her feet, her face hot and bleeding. The knife clattered to the ground and the _strigoi_ glanced up, low rattles escaping their lips. When she drew her sword they scuttled back, but the injured one could barely stand. She saw the human in them then, but what was left wasn't _enough._

As she brought the sword down Aubree looked away, knuckles turning white as they gripped the hilt. Then she swung, arch broad and unwavering, and sliced cleanly through.

The spray of blood splattered against the floor, soaked the ruined magazine stand. Aubree risked a peek through half closed eyes, grimacing at the severed heads. One still twitched, but nothing could have survived that. Not even something as monstrous as a _strigoi._

Aubree's hands shook as she sheathed the sword. When she knelt to pick up her knife, her legs threatened to collapse. She had done it, really _done it,_ and satisfaction rose in her chest. It was quickly buried when she turned to the man and his daughter, her stomach churning at the way they flinched from her. 

"Next time, stay home after dark," she murmured, "and don't touch the bodies, okay? Those white worms spread the infection."

The woman nodded as she stood on shaking legs. Not for the first time Aubree thought she looked as exhausted as Aubree _felt,_ but now the dark circles under her eyes looked almost black. "Thank you," she muttered, eyes downcast.

Aubree managed a weak smile, but it felt empty. "Stay safe," she managed quietly, and them made her way to the door.

No sooner had she stepped outside, finally allowing herself to breathe as the cool air hit her face, when she froze. Outside, illuminated by the flickering street light, stood Quinlan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of got out of hand, but I've never really written an extended fight scene before and kinda enjoyed myself. I don't think it's fantastic, but certainly not bad for a first attempt.
> 
> Anyway, look out for the next chapter bc we're gonna have some FEELS.


	13. Chapter 13

Quinlan's features remained impassive, stony even, but something flickered in his white eyes. "Aubree." He never asked, but the question was clear - _what are you doing?_

Aubree simply stuttered. To be fair, she _had_ just killed three _strigoi,_ and was wrestling with the pain of her injures and the desire to find the closest soft surface to fall asleep on. However, Quinlan simply stared her down, expecting some kind of answer, and it was impossible to hold his gaze for more than a handful of seconds. Ducking her head, cheeks flushed, Aubree muttered, "Cas was driving me crazy, and I wanted to do something useful."

"That was dangerous of you," Zivah commented. Beside Quinlan she somehow looked even paler in the weak yellow street light, but her smile was kind, "but it seems you were successful?"

"I guess," Aubree replied with a shrug. She sensed the old man and his daughter lurking in the window behind them - no doubt with wide, fearful eyes fixed on Zivah and Quinlan. Biting down on her lip, she risked a peek at Quinlan too. "I thought I could make a difference, but taking out three _strigoi_ isn't much of an achievement."

At first, the quirk of his lips could have been a shift of the light, the shadows playing tricks - but after a beat his lips parted into an honest _smile._ "Untrue," he replied, "you save two people in there. Are you saying they count for nothing?"

"That' not-" Aubree cut herself off with a snort, laughter threatening to bubble up in her chest. Quinlan was honest to God _smiling_ at her, and there was no reason for the giddiness in her stomach. Even so, she felt a smile of her own curving at her lips. "When you put it like that," she admitted, "then it doesn't sound so bad. I thought you'd be angry?"

A shrug, wide shoulders heaving underneath the heavy coat. "You've proven your point, made it clear you're ready to be out here with us."

"Maybe we _have_ been overcautious," Zivah cut in, "which is why - no, you tell her." She nudged Quinlan's arm, completely unfazed by his lack of reaction.

Quinlan paused, the seconds dragging on for _just_ long enough that Aubree considered the option he was doing it for effect. Then, that rare smile regretfully left his face as he said, "we've found the _strigoi_ behind this outbreak. The one the Master is controlling. We think it's about time you showed us what you've learned."

Aubree could have _hugged him._ In fact she took two stumbling steps forward before faltering, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "That's _amazing!"_ She beamed, eyes lighting up at the prospect. Finally! It was about time they let her do something to help. "When do we start? What are we doing? Can I-"

Quinlan held out a hand, silencing her instantly. Aubree's mouth snapped shut, and he said, "all that will come in time. First, you should check your injuries."

"It's just a couple of scratches-"

"All the same, open wounds are the perfect way in for _strigoi_ infection."

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. With a sigh she relented, rolling her eyes as they turned to leave. It was a start though, and her training _must_ have been advancing if he was finally letting her tag along. Knowing she was helping - well, it almost made the weeks stuck inside that grungy building worth it.

* * *

Zivah had ultimately decided that if she was going on missions now they needed some kind of first aid station - but really it was little more than a bed and a collection of cabinets filled with basic medical equipment. Hey, Aubree could always sneak into the hospital and grab anything they needed.

 _Assuming the hospital was even still in operation,_ she thought with a shiver.

With a sigh, it was time to survey the damage. The leather jacket and shirt were tossed onto the bed as Aubree twisted around to look into the dirty mirror in the corner of the room. From the front she looked fine, a couple of purpling bruises and a scratch along her shoulder. Letting out a little sigh of relief, Aubree allowed herself a smile - and then she turned around.

Crashing into the wall hadn't left her unscathed after all. Her back was a mosaic of mottled blue and deep purple from shoulder to shoulder, twisting around to the side of her ribs. The _strigoi_ had thrown her hard enough to break the _wall,_ and looking at the disaster of her own skin brought down the realisation of how _close_ she had been. How close to being well and truly fucked. Maybe even _dead._

"Aubree, we need to discuss-"

She whirled, lips parted in a silent gasp - and _oh yeah,_ the pain of those bruises was truly settling in - to see Quinlan lurking in the doorway. That's when she remembered she was only wearing a sports bra. "I was, uh-" Aubree's eyes darted around the room; to the floor, the bed, anywhere but Quinlan - and she quickly grabbed her t-shirt to pull it over her head. 

"You need medical attention," he stated - but as Aubree struggled with her shirt his lips twitched, eyes darting first to her face and then _down._

Aubree stood there, face flushed _scarlet_ despite the chill in the room, shirt still bunched in her hands. "It's just bruises," she replied with a shrug, "and I might have knocked my head, but I don't think there's much I can do."

Quinlan's lips pursed, white eyes flickering to hold her bright green ones. "Let me see," he asked - actually _asked,_ instead of demanded - and stepped forward with a gesture to the bed. 

"It's just bruises," Aubree insisted even though yes, the stiff ache was definitely settling into her shoulders and _yes,_ she definitely wasn't going to be making any sudden arm movements for the next few days-

"Sit down," Quinlan insisted, almost gently, as he moved forward another step, "it may not hurt now, but it will get worse by tomorrow. You have cuts too, that will need disinfected." 

Aubree eyed him nervously as she perched on the end of the bed, still half-clutching the shirt to her chest. She doubted he had even _noticed,_ but remembering the way his eyes flickered so briefly across her body made her flush deeper. When he sat beside her she turned away, red hair spilling over her shoulders, giving him a clear view of every bruise.

Pale fingers ghosted across her skin. An intake of breath, but Aubree wasn't sure _whose._ Even such a light touch brought a wince to her face, pain dancing across her shoulders. 

"Does it hurt?"

 _No shit,_ she wanted to answer - but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Not with him so close, not with the way his hands trailed along her back, the unnatural heat of his skin warming her. All she managed was a shrug, accented by another wince she hoped he didn't notice.

His hand paused by the small of her back, so feather light she barely felt it. "You're bleeding."

Aubree craned her neck around, eyes darting down to look - but Quinlan had already lifted a bundle of cotton swabs from their makeshift medical cabinet. His steady hands moved with purpose, elegant and pale in the weak light. Thick eyelashes cast spidery shadows across his sharp cheekbones as his gaze shifted to the supplies in his hands. He tipped only a drop of disinfecting alcohol onto the swab, and she was mesmerised by just how _delicate_ he was. 

Then he looked up, hairless brow raised, and she realised he had known she was staring the entire time. Embarrassment flooded through her, whole face flushing red as she spun back around. Across from her sat the mirror - and in it, Quinlan's smirking face.

"Hold still," he instructed - and Aubree would have thought he was letting the subject drop if she hadn't caught the twitch of his lips in the mirror. "This is going to sting."

There was a moment where all she felt was his warm skin against hers, his sharp nails gentle even as his slender fingers braced her shoulder. Then the alcohol-soaked cotton touched her skin and sent a biting pain along her spine. " _Shit,_ " Aubree hissed between clenched teeth, shoulders tensing even though, she admitted, that probably made it worse.

"I warned you," Quinlan replied - but his voice was soft. Concerned? Never, since the day she met him in that empty street, had she heard him sound so gentle. "You should be more careful," he continued, hands moving across her back as he cleaned her wounds, "you had me worried."

The admission left her speechless, lips parted in a silent question. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, reflection or in person, for fear she was misinterpreting his words. He was only worried because he _needed her,_ needed her because she was human and therefore useful to his cause. That was it. And yet...

The ache of her back eased as Quinlan shifted away, his work finished. She hated to admit how cold she felt without him - yet she wasted no time in tugging her wrinkled t-shirt back over her head. Wide eyes darted to Quinlan, almost as if she _wanted_ him to be looking at her.

Sure enough, pale eyes darted down as she glanced over, lips pursed. He couldn't blush, Aubree assumed, and he didn't seem like the type anyway. Yet the knit of his eyebrows and the sudden clumsiness of his usually elegant hands was enough to confirm her suspicions. The knowledge made her stomach flip, a smirk spreading across her full lips despite the nerves rolling in her gut. _Maybe_ there was something there after all. 

Silence settled over them as Quinlan stood, dusting down his long coat before turning to the door. Aubree was fixed in place, quietly mulling over the options in her mind - her mind was, to be fair, screaming at her to just _do something._ They were alone, which was rare enough, and his warm hands on her skin was fresh in her memory.

"I need to inform Cas of the situation, and you need to know too. Meet us in half an hour."

A frown tilted her lips downward as she wanted Quinlan stride from the room. The perfect chance had presented itself and here she was, letting it slide right by. It really _had_ been too long since she had dated. She watched silently as the door opened, as Quinlan stepped into the dim hall, all as if she was a spectator to her own uselessness-

"Wait!"

It took Aubree a second to realise it was _her_ voice that had spoken. Quinlan turned, brow raised, and she bolted from the bed. Her back protested at the sudden movement but now wasn't the time to be wishing for painkillers. She padded over to him, almost tripping over her own feet, and came to a stumbling stop just inches from his face.

_Smooth._

Once again she was struck by how thick his eyelashes were. How had she never noticed something like that before? Quinlan looked down at her expectantly, the shadow of that famous smirk on his lips, but he said nothing. 

"Quinlan," she started, tasting his name on her tongue, "I should uh, I mean there's... shit, I didn't think this through." She fumbled, cheeks staining pink - she was beginning to wonder if that was going to become a permanent thing - and ducked her head.

"If there is something to say, no one is stopping you." Now he was _teasing her,_ but his voice was so deadpan she couldn't be sure. 

She rolled over the options in her mind. _Hey Quinlan, I know I'm just a useful tool for you but I think we should go on a date._ Or, _I really want to kiss you, but you're not human so let's not make it weird._ Yeah, there wasn't a single thing she had to say that was at all helpful, even though it was all true. So instead of speaking she stood on her toes, tilted her head up, and captured his lips in hers.

His lips were so deliciously warm, hot even, and surprisingly soft. Sharp teeth pricked at her lower lip but it only made her smile against him. She brought a hand up to rest against his arm, fingers twining in the fabric of his jacket-

Then with a painful jolt, she noticed he wasn't kissing back.

In the seconds it took her to dart away, face burning in embarrassment and head ducked low, the heavy realisation had settled into the pit of her stomach _._ She shouldn't have kissed him, shouldn't have assumed that a kind act - as rare as it was from him - meant anything. _Stupid._

Quinlan said nothing, his eyes unblinking and features unreadable. He didn't even offer her his usual smirk. He simply stood there, hand still on the door handle, silent and still. Then _finally_ he spoke - but not to acknowledge her kiss. "Half an hour, and I expect you in the meeting room."

When Aubree's dark eyes flickered up it was difficult to meet Quinlan's gaze. He stood tall, unaffected as always, and it made her stomach twist. "I'm sorry I tried to kiss you," she murmured, "it was stupid, and we need to focus on the mission-"

"On both parts, you and I agree."

Swallowing thickly, Aubree stepped away. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill. She turned away just so he wouldn't see; but at this point she doubted Quinlan even cared.

He left without a word, without so much as an _acknowledgement,_ and the silence he left behind was judging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up a plot point from like... chapter 3, I think. I honestly forgot about it until now :) Anyway, hope you all enjoyed! If you like, please consider leaving a comment~
> 
> Also, it's nano in November so that's going to take up most of my time, so updates will be slow for a bit~


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